Consume Me: Warner One Shots
by supergirls2008
Summary: What was complicated, sexy Warner thinking as the books played out? This series of scenes, from Warner's POV, starts in Shatter Me and will be continued through Ignite Me
1. Jealousy: Adam's Bruises

**A/N: This is my first time writing from Warner's perspective! This was written completely selfishly, I needed more Warner AND someone really needed to punch Adam. Thanks to sweetwaterspice for her help with Warner's perspective!**

Finally, the moment I had anticipated ever since I stumbled across a file with her name on it months ago. The moment I could finally see Juliette's potential. Dinner in a room full of soldiers was a test, a perfect opportunity for her to strike out. The uncertainty of not knowing whether or not I would live or die made my blood race with hope. But nothing had happened. To my disappointment, she had shown up in the same filthy clothes she'd worn living like an animal in that dungeon and complained about eating. Even worse than her scoffing at every attempt I made to make her happy, I could feel it, her attention constantly on Kent.

 _"I'd really rather die than eat your food and listen to you call me love."_

And I could tell she was telling the truth. Apparently, so could Kent. He had been so startled that for a split second, I saw the emotion behind the mask he usually wore on his face.

The way she looked at him, like he was her lifeline, the anchor tethering her to the ground. He succeeded in getting her to eat when I had failed. It was like they had some sort of secret connection.

It made me unbelievably furious.

She listened to him. She was… worried… about him.

She was fond of him. The realization hit me to the core. Her pained eyes…she wanted not to believe he had betrayed her. She wanted to believe he was a…friend. I felt a knot in my stomach. What was happening to me? Perhaps this anxiety simply reflected my desire to keep her safe from their influence so she could help me achieve my goal.

Clenching my fists beneath the table, I formed a plan. To keep the soldiers away from her. To keep her to myself.

I needed to use this betrayal, this anger . I needed to see her power for myself. Every cell in my body was aching to feel the pain she could inflict. Her hatred was welcomed, expected. No one hated me more than I hated myself. If I was unable to help my mother, the least I could do is know what it was like to suffer like her.

But no, she wouldn't touch me. The monster I had expected was instead a helpless puppy or a docile lamb, afraid of her own gift.

Jenkins had been my attempt at an alternative. Perhaps it would be even better to observe her reaction than experience her force. And it was satisfying. I could feel the rush of adrenaline, the enjoyment she felt as she sucked away his life. Yet when she severed the connection, nothing but pain, unadulterated pain. How interesting. For a person's entire existence to be nothing more than a means to cause pain, and to kill. For her entire being to scream from the satisfaction of the kill. Yet she is surprisingly in control. She has kept her humanity, her empathy.

I needed to reign her in. She lacked focus, choosing to dwell on trivial details of her new life instead of the bigger picture– meting out justice, using her anger against all of those who had harmed her.

At least I had succeeded on one count. Immediately after walking out of my bedroom, where Juliette was sleeping, I could feel the air had become thick with terror, radiating from the soldiers around me. Terror of Juliette. Of me for bringing her here. None of them were even going to risk acknowledging her, much less be stupid enough to touch her from now on.

Except for one.

As I walked towards him, I knew brainless Kent wasn't terrified. He stood there like a mannequin as blank and emotionless as ever

This wouldn't do. But, then again, maybe it would.

Suppressing a smile, I realized the way to control Juliette and keep Kent away was quite obvious.

This I could enjoy.

"Kent," I called, not looking to him.

He stepped away from the wall, saluting. "Yes, sir!"

Over my shoulder, I motioned for him to follow me.

We walked into an interrogation room and I motioned for the two soldiers guarding outside to accompany us inside. I turned around to all three soldiers at attention.

"Kent, is there something you need to tell me?" I said dryly. What had he done, to have such an effect on her so quickly?

A flash of confusion crossed his eyes. "No, sir."

I punched him soundly in the gut.

He gasped, took a step back and curled over slightly before again standing at attention.

From the moment I had stepped foot into Juliette's cell, I had seen it. Her feelings for Kent had been clear with the depth of betrayal she had shown upon finding out he was a soldier. I don't understand what could have possibly occurred in that cell to make her so fond of him, he was such a brainless, empty meathead. All brawn and no brain. I had been watching the cameras constantly, trying to understand her better. But she had hardly spoken with him. Assigning him to guard her had been designed to capitalize on these feelings, make her uncomfortable, angry, unpredictable. But their interaction at dinner had cemented my feelings of disgust for Kent.

I stepped closer. "Juliette," I reveled at the way her name felt in my mouth, "Seems rather… attached to you. She's an amazing creature, isn't she?"

Kent stood frozen, completely void of emotion. When he made no attempt to respond, I continued, scrutinizing him. "I watched the tapes, she hardly seemed to care whether you were there. Is there something I have missed?"

"No, sir. My attempts at communicating with her failed. "

I punched his shoulder, angry at the fact that my attempts to reach her had also failed. "And did she recognize you?" I asked before he had regained his composure.

"I do not believe so, sir," he said, without an ounce of anxiety or deception. If he was lying, he was incredibly good at it.

Another fist to his side. He coughed several times. The two soldiers beside him had inched away from him without me noticing, eager to distance themselves from the punishment.

I caught myself pacing in front of him, trying to unravel the puzzle that was Juliette. I could feel the frustration building in every cell of my body, begging for release. A deep breath centered me, reminded me that I could not become the person my father wanted me to be.

"Tonight you saw her true power. Are you concerned about your ongoing assignment with her?"

"No, sir."

Shocked, I pause. The other two soldiers are horrified at the mere thought of even being near Juliette. What is so different about this one? "Please, regale me with your reasoning."

"I…" he stumbled, looking away from me. "I do not believe she would intentionally harm me. Sir."

I punch him hard in the kidney. He drops to his knees, wheezing. "Again, I must ask, why would she care? You betrayed her. What is your hold on her?" I need to know. I have to know. He is still gasping as I walk behind him and kick him once.

Rage is filling me at the thought of his gloved hand on her back, ushering her to the dinner table. Her wide eyes looking at him. I kicked him again and he grunted, a fist falling to the floor to support him.

"Sir," he panted, "There is nothing. Nothing I am not telling you."

I don't tell him I believe him.

"I only…" he is struggling to rise. "I only meant I don't think she intends to hurt anyone, which is why I am not afraid."

"You should be!" I roar, punching him down to his knees. I stooped down, looking him in the eye with derision. "Everyone else in this building is terrified of her. One touch and she could kill any one of you."

Frustrated and exhausted at the effort, I sit on an empty chair. I motion to the two soldiers flanking Kent. "Please," I sigh, exasperated. "Continue. Private Kent apparently needs to be reminded what pain feels like."

Closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead, I hear the two soldiers continue to beat Kent, him grunting in pain. Torture is not something I usually enjoy. But Juliette has broken something in me with her arrival and I feel crazed. I take a few deep breaths, building walls in my mind, remembering that this has a larger purpose.

"Enough." I open my eyes. Kent is kneeling on the floor, clutching his ribs, coughing up blood. I walk up to him and yank him to his feet, glaring in his eyes. "Now you will go back to your quarters and clean yourself up. In the morning, I expect you to be waiting at Juliette's door. You will continue to guard her," I clutch his shirt, pulling him closer to my face. "You will not, however, acknowledge her or speak to her without my distinct permission. I will be watching your interactions in her room, I expect you to do nothing more than ensure her safety." I let go and he stumbles backwards. "Seeing you like this will ensure her cooperation," I seethe from clenched teeth, wishing it was not true. "If it does not, or if I have any indication you have interacted with her outside of my terms, I will not hesitate to dispose of you. Is that understood, Private?"

"Yes, sir," he grunts.

And I walk out the door.


	2. Desperation: Begging for Juliette

**A/N: This story was co-written with Sweetwaterspice. Thanks, girl!**

My father and I are standing in front of the board room table in my office, strategizing. My chest tightens automatically when he is near, on edge and ready to defend myself.

"Have your men capture the guards patrolling tomorrow night. It shouldn't take us long to extract the information we need out of them." He looks at me, reiterating his point, "By any means necessary. If those methods don't work, leave a ransom note. Demand a meeting in exchange for their lives. Once we have the location, we destroy every last one of them. I have bombers on standby.""

"Why would they respond to a demand?"

"As you should know, they value their friends," he adds, with disdain. "People are so easy to manipulate once you know where to hit them where it hurts the most," he smiles.

I freeze. Juliette is in there. I have to tread carefully, "Perhaps we should take a more tactical approach? If we could gauge their abilities, we might be able to use some of them for our own benefit."

My father smiles contemptuously. "Worried about your pet?"

"I believe she has the unbridled potential to crush our enemies. It would be wasteful to destroy her without further study," I manage to say almost void of emotion.

"I told you, you've already wasted enough of your time and my time with your personal project. We move ahead as planned." He paused for a split second. "Unless…" His eyes narrow. "You love her."

"No, I-"

"Say it," he demands.

Every pore of my body is screaming with fear. "Say what?"

"Admit that you love her. That your fascination with her is nothing more than a schoolboy crush."

"She's important to me," I choke out. Yes, she is important to me. I just couldn't let him see just how much. I couldn't let him see he could kill me by killing her. I try to hide it. Try to sound logical. I raise my voice, attempting to fortify the last wall I have standing. "I've devoted hours of research…"

But he saw straight through me. He storms through my last defense, exposing me for the fraud I am. He cackled, "You think you are going to have a normal life? Marry a girl who cannot touch you? Pursue a girl who thinks you are a monster? Tell me, boy. Does she return your love?"

I look down to the floor. I stood there fully exposed, naked, castrated once again. I could feel the pressure of my clenched jaw shooting rage, anger, hate into the depths of my brain. Why didn't I have the courage to just kill him myself? I was still a young boy standing at his bedside, holding a damn gun but unable to shoot.

He looked disgusted. "No, I didn't think so. You have forgotten your purpose. Men fear you. You have murdered entire families without a second thought. You are willing to give up your power, the control you so desperately sought only a year ago, for a pretty face?"

His words recalibrate me. The mask on my face did not falter. He could not know the real reason for my insistence on becoming commander.

"I own you. You owe me everything. Every day you breathe this air is because I allow you to. I allow you to remain alive to follow my every command, not to entertain your pitiful fantasies." He steps towards me and I do not back away. His hot breath is suffocating me but I do not give him the satisfaction of seeing my derision.

"Look at you. Pathetic. You've allowed your heart to control your sense of direction and look what it's gotten you. You've become unfocused, weak. I've tried son, I've tried to make you untouchable and this is the thanks I get! You would throw everything away for a girl?" He walks away, rubbing his face.

"You cannot allow yourself the weakness of emotion. A single woman is enough to destroy the empire I have built." He pauses before turning back to the papers in front of us, "She will die along with all of the others."

"I will not allow you to do that," I meet his eyes with stern defiance. I know this can lead to my instant death but I don't back down. "I need her. She lives."

He leans against the table, considering. "You dare defy me? You ungrateful son of a bitch." We are at an impasse. "Perhaps I should make you watch. As I kill her slowly. Allow you to hear her screams as she begs you to let her die. Teach you a lesson about allowing another person to control you, to make you weak."

The air in the room has become thin, poisonous, and breathing is becoming difficult. I attempt to compose myself, "Destroy the others, I don't care. Juliette lives." My defenses are a pile of dust on the floor. I've used her name and now he knows. I've condemned us both to death. "Please. As a favor...to me."

In one motion he grabs my neck and slams me into the wall, cutting off my oxygen. I stay still, not allowing myself to panic, not allowing myself to react at all. "A favor?" He is saying. I'm attempting to tune out his words, building walls in my mind, trying to calm myself and not expend any additional oxygen. "Humiliating… an embarrassment… wretched creature… kill you," a few of his words slip through my defenses.

He lets go and I sink to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. "Please, sir," I manage.

He stops, turning to me slowly, enjoying my desperation.

He smiles in a way that makes me want to vomit. Turns back to his papers.

"Capture the men as planned. Leave a letter in their place calling for a meeting tomorrow. Ask for your pet to come negotiate with us." I choke back relief. "I must see this girl myself, learn how she managed to turn my son into such a fool." I open my mouth to again emphasize her worth but my blood runs cold as he continues, "If she disappoints me, you will watch as I put not one, or two but three bullets through her brain."

 **A/N: Let me know if you are reading this! To be continued from Warner's POV, such a complicated man.**


	3. Panic: 1542 Sycamore

**A/N: This is a long chapter! You are welcome! Thanks to everyone who has been reading and commenting, I appreciate it! I do plan to continue this story, I am choosing all of my favorite scenes through Ignite Me. Any requests?**

1542 Sycamore.

Two blocks from my mother's home.

I wonder if he chose the close proximity to remind me of my other fatal flaws.

We open the door to the shuttered home, its crumbling state a reflection of the day to come.

My father surveys the room and points to an open door frame, the door hanging on its hinges. "Tie them up in there," he orders the members of his guard flanking us, dragging my father's two severely injured hostages. "Then secure the perimeter. I want to know if she is coming alone. If you spook her I will personally put a bullet in your brain." Neither myself nor the members of his guard are not startled by his threat, I'm sure it is one of many they have heard.

He turns to me. "Go guard the hostages." I obey, walking towards the room. "Aaron?" Clenching my teeth, I turn to him. "If you step out of that room before I command you to, your precious Juliette will not survive the day." I do not respond or give him any indication of how much the thought of a world without Juliette wounds me.

Cobwebs and dirt cover every surface in what must have been a kitchen at one point. I sit on a broken stool. I hadn't had much contact with the two hostages before now, my father had preferred to oversee their torture himself. They had both been unconscious for the journey and had only now woken up. Gagged, they are looking in my direction and I can feel their fear, hatred and disgust.

Ignoring them, I close my eyes, focusing my attention on the other room. My father is determined, curious, and of course, scornful. The last one is directed towards me, and none of these emotions present an immediate danger to Juliette. The thought of her soon being in this same building sends a chill down my spine. It is only recently I have admitted to myself how deeply I care about her and the ache in my arm reminds me my feelings are not returned. I wonder how many seconds it will take for me to run out there if she needs protection. Could I make it in time? Or would he shoot her without warning? Am I willing to die for a girl who hates me? If I interfere in any way with my father's plan, it would be equivalent to suicide. From his perspective, I have made too many mistakes already and the resentment he holds towards me is building in his heart.

But the thought of a world without Juliette is unbearable.

I hear my father stand up and I shoot forward, stopping before I reach the open doorway.

His voice grates against my nerves, ""Oh good. You're right on time."

She's here. In the same house as me.

In the same house as my father.

Unadulterated terror floods my body.

Suddenly I hear a struggle. My heart stops. Something is hitting the wall. I start again towards the door but remember my father's threat. The feelings building inside of me are causing me to think irrationally and I'm spinning out of control. For a few moments I almost believe I am the kind of person she deserves, the kind of person that could take on his father to save her. Instead, I close my eyes, trying to read the situation. He is not angry. In fact, he is curious and in awe of her. She is still struggling against him which means she isn't dead. Besides, I doubt he would kill her without forcing me to watch.

Why doesn't she rip him to shreds?

I clench my fists, standing at the door, ready to run out if necessary. Not a moment too soon, I hear coughing and heaving mimicking the response I had to my father's touch only yesterday. Knowing he hurt her is driving me insane.

Torture is my father's favorite game and his actions could easily be meant to torment me.

He's talking to her and I am overcome with anger. I don't want him to look at her, to touch her, to be anywhere near her.

"I brought you here to teach my son a lesson. I had every intention of killing you," he is saying. "And I preferred to do it where he would be sure to see it. War is messy. It's easy to lose track of who's been killed and how they died and who killed whom, et cetera, et cetera. I wanted this particular death to be as clean and simple as the message it would convey. It's not good for him to form these kinds of attachments, after all. It's my duty as his father to put an end to that kind of nonsense." Cold detachment. Not good. It is the feeling he has before ending a life. The pain in my chest is incredible. Every cell in my body prepared for a fight.

"Why don't you just kill me," she squeaked, her sweet voice driving a knife into my soul.

He says it is because she is beautiful. My heart is beating so fast, as I run scenarios through my mind of how this may play out.

He wants to take her to the capital with him?

Over my dead body.

He's laughing, the noise makes me sick. "Son, would you come in here, please?"

Finally.

I step out of the room.

She takes my breath away. Her sheer proximity is enough to unravel every fiber of my being and drive a knife into my heart. The only thing I ever wanted is the same person who hated me so much that she shot me and left me for dead. Yet here she is just outside my reach. Terror radiates from her pores and I feel my soul pouring through my eyes, taking in every inch of her. My chest aches with needing her. Every ounce of self-control is dedicated to preventing myself from running to her right now to shield her from my father.

"Sit down," my father orders.

I can't move, my limbs betraying me. She's wearing a spandex suit that hugs all the right places, a harness that highlights her chest. But her neck… her neck is red from where my father strangled her. I can't breathe. My father touched her, he hurt her. I'm going to kill him. I wrench away and sit down, unable to look another second at the damage he has done to her slender neck. Never before have I felt so helpless, my father's grip so tight around my spine.

"Tell me, how did you escape?" My father asks her.

"The first time or the second time?" I force my face to remain unreadable. Both times she escaped she broke my heart. I don't feel her hate this time. It has been replaced with nervousness and curiosity.

"Twice! You managed to escape twice!" He laughs grotesquely, "Incredible. Both times, then. How did you get away both times?" I wonder what he is doing, why he is stalling. Whatever his decision is, he has already made it, why waste time asking irrelevant questions? Perhaps he is attempting to humiliate me further. I study Juliette, wishing I could read her mind for some indication that she cares for me. Some indication that I should stop this, that there is a reason I should give my life for hers. Does she care at all? Would knowing her feelings even matter to me? Would it make a difference in whether or not I chose to save her? It is killing me because I already know the damn answer but it's irrelevant. My father is going to win again. He is going to destroy me today and the darkness inside me will become irreversible. I will not recover.

I think of an entry in her journal, "I'm caught around the throat by a pair of hands that won't stop suffocating suffocating suffocating"

I wonder if she knows how much she is killing me.

"The second time was at the compounds. Warner grabbed me and I shot him," she says. I feel the instant burn in my chest and it has nothing to do with my injury. I clench my fists, recalling the humiliating moment when I told her I loved her. I'm not sure any man has ever been rejected so furiously.

"You shot him?" My father says, his tone dangerous. His mood is changing so quickly it is unreadable. I stare at Juliette, keeping my face composed. Her closeness is causing me physical pain. He does this sometimes, plays with his food. He enjoys the fear and anticipation his mere presence provides.

"Yes," she says, looking at me finally. "I shot him. With his own gun." I look down, unable to look at her disdainful face for another moment, squeezing my hands tighter to prevent my whole body from shaking. It's the words she doesn't say that kill me. She hates me. She loathes me. Love is a heartless bastard.

My father is angry. I can feel the fury building inside him. I'm unarmed. I glance covertly around the room, instinctively looking for a weapon. But what would I do if I found one? Sacrifice myself for the same girl who shot me weeks ago? The same one standing here today with nothing but venom in her heart for me?

"The mistake," he announces, "that he always makes, time and time again—allowing his emotions to get in the way of his duty—it's pathetic," he says as turns to me. "Which is why as much as I'd like to let you live, my dear, I'm afraid you're too much of a distraction in his life. I cannot allow him to protect a person who has attempted to kill him." He's talking quickly now, "I can't believe I even have to have this conversation. What an embarrassment he's proven to be."

Before I can move, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a gun, and aims it at her. My heart drops, but instantly, his anger changes to frustration. "I'm sick of always cleaning up after you," He yanks me up, pressing the gun into my hand. "Shoot her. Shoot her right now."

The only person I've ever loved is standing in front of me and I am holding a gun. The only person I've ever loved hates me, wants me to die, tried to kill me herself. Every nerve in my body is screaming with tension. A part of me shuts down as I bring up the gun. I've ended a life a hundred times before. My father has succeeded at one thing, I'm a killer. A war is overtaking my soul. I don't even know who I am anymore. I'm two different people inhabiting the same body. I feel the gun, cold metal against my sweaty palm. The feel of it, so familiar. It's as if we're one. And it prompts the part of my brain dedicated to my training, to keeping myself alive, to fight for me to extinguish her. To pull the trigger as easily as I have every other time. My hand is steady, my body knows exactly what to do. To kill someone that hates me, just like all the others.

"Hurry up," says the voice that haunts my waking hours and my dreams at night, "The sooner you do this, the sooner you can move on. Now get this over with—"

Every moment I've shared with Juliette flashes through my eyes

and I wake up.

So what if she hates me? I'd forgiven everything she'd done and everything she could do long before. These feelings building inside of me spark something inside of me. For a second I break away from my father's chains and something darker, an evil stored inside me, reminds me of the real enemy, of the debts he owes. He has stolen my mother, my life, my soul. He will not take Juliette away from me and turn me into the abomination he has always wanted.

I point my gun in the right direction.

But I can't pull the trigger.

I imagine myself pulling the trigger, him falling to the floor and dying. I'm so close to the relief I have always wanted. But inside, I'm still the scared boy too petrified to kill his own father because some small part of him still seeks his father's affection.

He pulls out a gun of his own but I am not afraid of death.

"Point the gun in the right direction, Aaron. This is ridiculous."

"I have no interest in killing her."

"Fine," he points the gun at Juliette. "I'll do it then."

That almost seals his fate. "Shoot her and I will put a bullet through your skull," I promise, my voice steady.

"How charming," he says, mocking me. ""What is it? Does she make you feel brave, boy? Does she make you feel strong?" I imagine the bullet piercing his brain, shutting him up forever.

"Does she make you wish you could be a better man?" he laughs, "Has she filled your head with dreams about your future?"

My heart aches, all at once remembering her hatred, her contempt for me. If I don't kill him, he will end me. In one action I have given everything to Juliette, my entire future. I will myself to make the small motion that will erase him from my life.

"You have lost your mind," he says, "over a stupid child who's too much of a coward to defend herself even with the barrel of a gun pointed straight at her face. This is the silly little girl you've fallen in love with." How dare he insult her. He has no idea the power she could wield. She could rip him to shreds. "I don't know why I'm surprised." I'm breathing harder as I squeeze the gun. I want to pull the trigger, to end this once and for all, but I can't. I can't do it and I never have been able to. He is scorning me for the times I've tried and failed.

"Shut your mouth," I say, my voice low and full of contempt. Pull the trigger, Warner. Pull the trigger.

"You are weak," his disdain for his own son all too clear, "Too pathetically sentimental. Don't want to kill your own father? Too afraid it'll break your miserable heart?"

I clench my jaw

"Shoot me," he says, his eyes dancing, bright with amusement. "I said shoot me!" He lunges for me, digging his fingers into my bullet wound, twisting my arm behind me until I can't help but give him the satisfaction of a small gasp. It feels like he is going to tear my arm clear off and it takes every ounce of the self-control he has beat into me not to scream.

He pushes me and I fall, barely regaining my balance.

"So much talk," my father says, shaking his head. "So much talk and never enough follow-through. You embarrass me. You make me sick."

He hits me full-force. I don't flinch. I don't move. I cannot think of failure. He will not break me. I swallow my emotions, keeping my face perfectly composed. I have trained myself to never show a reaction, hiding my pain as much as possible. Doing so has always given me some semblance of control in the situation when in reality I knew I had none.

"Do you want to threaten me again?" His anger is uncontrolled and unpredictable, but still I know I will not be able to shoot him. My head is spinning too fast for me to form another plan. "Do you still think you can defend your little girlfriend? You think I'm going to allow your stupid infatuation to get in the way of everything I've built? Everything I've worked toward?" He jabs the gun into my forehead, emphasizing each word, "Have I taught you nothing?" he shouts. "Have you learned nothing from me—"

This might be my last moment and all I can think of is Juliette.

Who will protect her if he kills me now?

 **A/N: Thanks sweetwaterspice for once again helping me unravel the many layers of Warner.**

Did I get him right? His motivations for acting/not acting? I'd love to hear all of your thoughts!


	4. Exasperation: Taken Hostage

**A/N: I'm really enjoying these chapter titles, what do you think? I probably should have named them by what is going on in the chapter, but emotions seem so appropriate for our very emotional leading man**

The first sensation I become aware of is my head, throbbing with agony, the world spinning behind closed eyes. I squint against the bright lights whizzing by. I'm being wheeled somewhere.

My arm is burning in pain, it feels like I have been shot again. Maybe I have.

People are yelling. By instinct, I turn my head to try and memorize our route, in case I have a chance to escape. These look like tunnels. We are underground.

The rebels have me.

The thought should be terrifying, but I'm not sure I would prefer to be in my father's company after the incident in the house. At least if I'm here, it means Juliette may also have been found by her friends.

Small comforts.

Someone comes into my field of vision and I close my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

"Take him to the girls, as much as I'd love for this asshole to bleed out slowly, we need him alive."

Kishimoto.

My eyelids twitch without my permission.

"Shit, I think he is waking up. Someone get me another one of those shots," Kishimoto says.

Unwilling to be put back under, I try to sit up, but my hands are bound behind my back and I'm laying awkwardly on my side. Kishimoto jumps back instinctively. "Shit, shit, shit on a cracker." he says, pushing me back to a supine position. "Can I get some help here?" Another man comes and grabs my shoulder, pushing me down. Even with my hands tied together, I manage to elbow him in the nose.

"God damn it!" the man cries, holding his bloodied face.

I turn to Kishimoto, "I am going to kill you. I will rip you apart from limb to limb and I will enjoy it…"

"What happened to Juliette?" The bloodied man says, "We need someone to hold him down."

"Hell, no," Kishimoto replies. "I said we needed him alive, remember? Sara!" He called to someone outside of my view. "Give me that!"

"Where's Juliette? Is she here?" I say, frantic. A needle jabs my neck and spots dance in front of my eyes.

"That's better," Kishimoto leans close. "I've always wanted to say this, and I might never have this chance again. Fuck you, Warner."

And the world goes black.

I open my eyes to a white room.

Suddenly alert, I sit up too fast, waiting for a round of nausea to pass.

Where the hell am I?

It all comes flooding back, the decrepit house, my father pointing a gun at Juliette...

Juliette.

The thought of her is enough for me to overcome my sickness and confusion and I run to the door. Locked. Pounding on the door half-crazed, I yell, "Juliette! JULIETTE! Let me out of here, God damn it, I will kill you all. Juliette!"

I stop as I realize I am pounding with both arms. My arm is completely healed and painless. I stretch it, reveling in the freedom the sling had restricted.

Surveying the room for a possible escape, my mind races back as I try to figure out where I am. Kishimoto's face floods my mind. Damn it, I'm at the rebel's underground location. Why did they bring me here? To kill me? Torture me? Why fix my arm?

I think back, trying to remember if Juliette is okay.

I remember her saving me, throwing my father against the wall like he was a bug, and then holding a gun to him. I could feel the rage fuming from her, and in that moment, I don't know if I had ever been more attracted to her. But something had worried me, she seemed to be in some kind of fugue state, unaware of her surroundings. She was going to kill him, which was fine with me, except I wasn't sure she would ever forgive herself if she did.

Instead of killing him, I watched, in awe, as she shot him in the knee.

The satisfaction of his screams is the last thing I remember. Kishimoto must have dosed me with something. Hopefully it also means he has Juliette and not my father.

I go to the door again to hurl threats at the guard. Their fear is my strength and my only weapon.

After a few minutes the door slides open. I take a step back, prepared to fight my way out of the room if necessary. A man walks in, his hands raised in a peaceful gesture, "Commander Warner."

I do not respond, taking the time to assess this man. He seems to be unarmed, but a look around him shows four or five guards with guns.

Not the worst odds I've seen.

"Call me Castle."

"Where's Juliette?"

"Safe," he says, surprised. My shoulders relax at the word. "Why do you ask?"

"Let me see her."

"I don't think she wants to see you."

My heart ached at the thought. No, I suppose she didn't want to see me. Even after I risked my life to save hers, she would see me as the monster I am. "Where am I?"

"This is Omega Point." When he saw my confusion at the unfamiliar term, he said, "We have hidden for a long time from the Reestablishment. Now you have captured two of my men. Where are they being kept?"

"Take me to Juliette."

"That is not possible."

Impatient and unwilling to continue this interrogation, I lunge at him. No sooner do I begin the motion, I am wrenched back by some unseen force and pushed several feet backwards.

"What the hell?" I mutter. This man could move things with his mind. Great.

"Where are my men being held?" So this is the reason I'm not dead. I could feel his satisfaction at overpowering me, but also his desperation.

"I am only talking to Juliette."

Castle sighs, staring at me, confused and intrigued. I deduce he doesn't understand my interest in Juliette and I make no moves to enlighten him. "Eat. I've left you food. I'll be sending someone in later to see if you are willing to cooperate," he says, leaving and shutting the door behind him.

I growl in frustration and race to the door, trying to wrench it open before it locks again. I turn and grab a chair I had noticed earlier, hurling it at the door. The door doesn't budge but I was so overcome with fury that I began hitting the door again and again with the metal frame.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the door opened. Kishimoto.

"Where is Juliette," I snarl.

"Calm the fuck down. Seriously," Kishimoto leans against the wall. "You have no chill."

"What are you doing here?" I said. The way the guards were looking at him made me think he was some kind of leader. This resistance must be in much worse shape than I thought.

"Castle thought the honor of my presence would calm you down. That you would do some yoga, sing kumbaya or some shit."

"I'm going to kill you," I seethe.

Kishimoto, "Oh God, I'm trembling. Do you see that?" He holds out his arm, "Must have been my imagination. Now what did you do with the hostages."

"I'm only talking to Juliette."

"Why do you want to see her?"

"Where is she?"

"Probably crying in a corner or fighting with her boyfriend or doing some other Juliette-like shit. What she isn't doing is showing any interest in seeing your happy face. You get me. You should be grateful."

"Was it always your intention to kidnap her?" I ask, my eyes narrowed.

"I'd hardly call it kidnapping. She was a damsel in distress. It was practically my duty to take her away from that hellhole. Now are you going to tell me where the hostages are? Or do I have to kick your ass?" He says, flexing his fingers.

I laugh, "Please try. I would find it highly amusing."

Kishimoto mumbles something under his breath and knocks to be let out of the room. Turns to me,

"Juliette is on her way. Go stand by the wall so we can get rid of all this shit you keep throwing around. And I swear to God, Warner. If you touch a single hair on her pretty little head and she somehow doesn't tear you apart? I will be happy to do the honors." He turns and motions the guards inside.

A switch inside me flips off all of the anger and tension I had been holding. Unable to control my smile, I stand against the wall with a sigh, closing my eyes. Relief washes over me. Juliette is on her way. She must not have been injured. I am going to see her.

I can feel Kishimoto staring at me still confused. I smile slightly. He thought I would try and hurt Juliette when in fact I was the only one likely to be left in pain.

Finally alone, I sit on the floor in the empty room. All things considered, I doubted I would have had such a pleasant experience had I ended up with my father after turning a gun on him.

I close my eyes and smile for so long it hurts.

Today I get to see Juliette.

 **Author's Note: Comment below and let me know your favorite part! I have written Juliette and Warner's first convo at Omega Point, what should I write next? Does anyone have a favorite scene that needs some Warner POV?**


	5. Hesitation: First Omega Point Meeting

**A/N: Christa: I love Kenji! His humor is so much like mine haha he is so easy to write**  
 **Guest: The pager scene is my absolute favorite in the series! That will be so fun to write**

The door opens and I sense her presence immediately. _Nervousness._ For a split second, I revel at the sound of her uneven breaths, allow the comfort and happiness of simply knowing she is alive and being in a room with her to wash over me. If I am going to die soon, these moments of peace must be my parting gift from the universe.

"Do you have any idea," I murmur, "how many times I've read this?" I show her the notebook which has not left my person since I found it on her bedroom floor. The guards here had checked me for weapons, but they assumed a notebook could not have dire consequences.

They were wrong.

This collection of papers had destroyed me.

I can't look at her yet. We are both terrified. Opening her notebook to find courage, I stop when I find a familiar passage. She protests as I begin to read.

"…I wonder what it would be like to speak out loud and be heard. I hold my breath, listen closely for anything, any sound of life and wonder at the beauty, the impossibility of possibly hearing another person breathing beside me." She is breathing shallowly. The pain both of her words and in her presence causes me to falter. I close my eyes, the notebook no longer necessary as I absorb the pain for both of us.

"…I do wonder, I think about it all the time. What it would be like to kill myself." A chill runs down my spine as I feel the closeness of these words to my everyday reality. "Because I never really know, I still can't tell the difference, I'm never quite certain whether or not I'm actually alive. So I sit here. I sit here every single day." I pause, thinking that her journal made up for all of the gifts I never received, all of the human interaction I was never permitted. Her words mirror my soul so clearly; it spoke the words I had never known were screaming inside me to be released.

Her body is fraught with tension, with a need to escape. The emotion reminds me of something. I pick up her notebook, "Run, I said to myself."

"Please." She pleads, "Please stop—"

I look up, she is trembling. I just want her to realize I understand her pain completely. That she is the single most important person in my life, and I would do anything to spare her these feelings from happening again. I want one person to understand me, or at least a part of me, before I am executed for all of the terrible crimes I have committed. I hope she is listening, not to the words, but to the ache in my chest as I read.

"Run, I said to myself. Run until your lungs collapse, until the wind whips and snaps at your tattered clothes, until you're a blur that blends into the background."

My own words have failed me over and over. The only way I know how to reach her now is to speak her language, "… Run until you drop dead. Make sure your heart stops before they ever reach you. Before they ever touch you. Run, I said."

She is falling apart with embarrassment. She doesn't seem to understand where she sees weakness in herself, I see the strength that allowed her to survive.

I try to explain. "Do you know, I couldn't sleep for days after I read that entry. I kept wanting to know which people were chasing you down the street, who it was you were running from. I wanted to find them," I whisper, wondering if my intensity will frighten her, but unable to control my feelings around her. "and I wanted to rip their limbs off, one by one. I wanted to murder them in ways that would horrify you to hear."

"Please. Please give that back to me."

I press my fingers against my lips, commanding my heart to steady. She doesn't love me. She doesn't want me to know her. She hates me, like all of the others. Leaning against the wall, I smile sadly. "You must know how sorry I am. That I", the words and memories are unbearably painful, "that I kissed you like that. I confess I had no idea you would shoot me for it."

"Your arm," she gasps.

I smile grimly, thinking she, like I, must wonder why the rebels have chosen to heal someone on death row. "Yes, it was healed when I woke up to find myself in this room."

As if she knew the motion could physically injure me, she steps further away. "Please, my notebook, I—"

"I promise you," I say, not knowing how much time I have with her before they take her away for good, "I never would've kissed you if I didn't think you wanted me to." I had been so certain she had wanted me to. I could feel it, the excitement in her chest as I kissed her.

She looks up, her dazzling blue-green eyes pinched in confusion. "I told you I hated you."

"Yes, well. You'd be surprised how many people say that to me."

"I don't think I would."

Suppressing a smile, I say, "You tried to kill me."

"That amuses you." _Confused. Disbelief_. If she had actually wanted to kill me, I'm sure my brains would have been spread across the wall of that alley.

"Oh yes," I smile uncontrollably "I find it fascinating." I look forward to making her mad. Her emotions are so close to the surface, I love the way the blood runs into her cheeks when I frustrate her, as well as how unpredictable she becomes. "Would you like to know why?"

She does not respond with her lips, but her eyes give her curiosity away.

"Because all you ever said to me," I begin coyly, "was that you didn't want to hurt anyone. You didn't want to murder people."

"I don't."

The sentence I have been waiting to utter, "Except for me?" It isn't the exception I wish she made for me, but her thinking of me distinctly from the rest of the world is a start. I had read somewhere there is a thin line between love and hate, and I hoped to cross that line with her one day.

"That decision was so easy for you to make," I smile, thinking once more of how similar we are. She gives me hope, that the actions I have been forced to take to ensure my survival are forgivable. If a person as good as her can kill someone so easily, perhaps I am not the monster I thought. "So simple. You had a gun. You wanted to run away. You pulled the trigger. That was it."

 _Scared_. Her eyes flicker to the door and I know she is going to run away again.

"Don't go," I whisper, embarrassed at my lack of control. Being apart from her is far too painful, I feel the lack of her in my bones. "Please. Sit with me. Stay with me. I just want to see you. You don't even have to say anything."

Her body language says she has decided to stay and the relief is immediate. I want her to know the depths of my feelings, so I say, "Would you like me to read to you?"

She shakes her head, whispering, "Why are you doing this to me?"

I almost tell her everything. How I can't stand to be away from her, how I have loved her since before I even met her, how she makes me feel like a different person, like the two of us could conquer the world.

But I don't. I don't think she has a gun this time, but her rejection would kill me just the same.

"You know, could tell, the very first day I met you. There was something about you that felt different to me. Something in your eyes that was so tender. Raw. Like you hadn't yet learned how to hide your heart from the world." I'm thinking of my mother's words as she handed me her Jade ring, thinking hiding my heart was what had protected me from the harsh realities of life. Juliette was so open with the world, it was no wonder she came across as so deeply wounded. I pat the notebook possessively, "Finding this, was so… it was so extraordinarily painful." My chest was aching at the memory of her writings, so close to my heart. I look up at her, trying to tell her everything I am too afraid to say out loud. To tell her why I want to talk about her journal. Not to torture her, but to show her how deeply I understand her pain. "It was like meeting a friend for the very first time."

Her gaze is too intense, her tornado of feelings too difficult to comprehend. Suddenly I feel exhausted. Here I am pouring out my soul and she would walk out of here to Kent. She doesn't care about me. What was I hoping for out of this situation? She would understand me before her friends kill me? Best case scenario, I manage to escape and my father does the honors himself. "I am so tired, love. I'm so very, very tired."

I listen to her breathing, comforted by the sound, "How much time do I have before they kill me?"

"Kill you?" She replies, startled. Could she be so innocent she had not wondered why they were holding me here?

"We're not going to kill you," she says. "We have no intention of hurting you. We just want to use you to get back our men. We're holding you hostage."

My body goes rigid with alarm. "What?"

Her eyes are honest, unblinking, as I try and comprehend her words. "We have no reason to kill you. We only need to barter with your life—"

Oh no. I can't stop myself from laughing. It's somehow refreshing how naive these people are, to think, _of course his father will save him. What father wouldn't?_ I shake my head at the incredulous idea of my father lifting a finger to help me in any way. He would be more likely to thank them for finally taking me off his hands.

"Dear, sweet, beautiful girl," I smile at her wide eyes, her appalled expression, "Your team here has greatly overestimated my father's affection for me. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but keeping me here is not going to give you the advantage you were hoping for. I doubt my father has even noticed I'm gone. So I would like to request that you please either kill me, or let me go. But I beg you not to waste my time by confining me here."

She is floundering, confused. Her hair is falling into her face and she looks at me from underneath it in a way that makes her seem simultaneously sexy and innocent. I wonder what it would be like to sweep the hair from her face. To see her smile as I lean down to kiss her. How I've longed to feel the softness of her lips again, to hold her, pressed against my body, giving her that part of me that now only belongs to her. "But that's  
not even a viable argument. No one likes to be held hostage—"

I inhale sharply as her words distract my thoughts. I know this is for naught. My thoughts are not my own anymore being held captive by her every move, her every word, her bewitching stare. I run a hand through my hair, as it would stop her from overtaking my mind. She is wrong. There is literally nowhere else I would rather be right now than in this room with her. Focusing, I pretend I am talking to Juliette the soldier, the one they most likely intended to send in here, rather than Juliette, the woman I love without reservation. "Your men are wasting their time. Kidnapping me will never work to your advantage. This much I can guarantee."

 **A/N: Yay for the end of the scene! What did you think? The next scene will be a surprise (especially for me, since I haven't decided which one to write!)**


	6. Guilt: Using Juliette's Power

**Author's Note: So I am skipping ahead now! I am too impatient to delve into Ignite Me, where all of the really good Warner scenes are. I plan to continue this scene through the end of Unravel Me... I would expect 2 more chapters before we get into Ignite Me! This is a seriously long chapter... over 4,000 words! But it felt like a complete scene so I didn't want to split it up. You are welcome ;)**

 **Thanks to sweetwaterspice for input on this chapter!**

 **Christa: That is why I love Warner! A bad boy with only one chink in his armor. And I love seeing him so vulnerable.**

 **It is killing me to write the next chapter! "Adam." More heartbreaking words have never been spoken.**

* * *

 **ALSO! Yesterday I was listening to Sara Bareilles' Gravity. I can't think of a better song to sum up Juliette/Adam's relationship! Team Warner for the win.**

Oh, you loved me 'cause I'm fragile  
When I thought that I was strong  
But you touch me for a little while  
And all my fragile strength is gone

Set me free, leave me be  
I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity  
Here I am, and I stand  
So tall, just the way I'm supposed to be

...The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down

 **Does anyone have a good song for Warner/Juliette? Let me know below!**

* * *

This had been far too easy.

I walk down the hall of Omega Point, using the knowledge I had gained from my walks with Castle and my memories from being carted down here to find a few possible exit routes. The hope in Castle's eye when I told him I would fight with them tomorrow was sickening. He was too trusting, he was going to get everyone killed. A few words and I had been released into the general population, no questions asked. Tomorrow, before everyone left to fight, I would walk right out of here. I had escaped confinement without a single punch.

So far, at least.

The few people in the hallways sneer at me as I pass but no one motions to stop me. Now that I am more aware of my abilities, reading the distinct emotions each person felt was simple. I am amazed at the number of emotions a person can hold at one time. _Fear. Hope. Disgust. Anger. Confusion._

I turn, finding my way back to a cafeteria I had seen earlier, hoping to find Juliette there. I have to convince her to escape with me. She will die here with these idiots.

Anyway, if she doesn't come with me, I am not sure I will be able to leave. And I really don't desire to spend another day with these people. Especially if it means dying for them. I want to be free from this group of naive imbeciles. But every moment I spend without Juliette is like drowning. Even when she sat in my room saying nothing at all, her presence was intoxicating. I felt her emotions too closely, as if they were my own. I had rendered myself to her in a way I didn't think possible and all I cared about now was her happiness.

Closing my eyes, I reach out with my power, testing its abilities, hoping to find the spark of her energy.

To my surprise I find it.

 _Undiluted pain.  
_  
I run. She could be dying or in trouble or…

I stop.

Juliette is standing inches away from Kent

His voice is raised, "Am I ever going to catch a break? Is there ever going to be a time when some shitty thing isn't being thrown in my face?" _Betrayal. Hurt. Worry. Anger. So much anger._ "Jesus. It's like this insanity is never going to end."

Her pain is rolling off of her and wrapping itself around my neck, strangling me.

I'm not sure what to do. I want to kill him with my bare hands for making her feel this way, but her body language tells me she wouldn't appreciate it. "Juliette," I say, needing to feel her reaction to gage the situation.

She freezes, but there is no anger or hatred. _Confusion. Worry. Fear. Guilt._

 _Desire?_ Am I imagining it, deep within her?

"What the hell are you doing here?" Kent lashes out.

I smile, realizing the depth of his anger is directed at me, not Juliette. He has learned of mine and Juliette's connection. I wonder if she told him. I wonder why she would. "It's good to see you again, Kent. We should catch up, you know. Especially in light of this new discovery. I had no idea we had so much in common."

"You sick piece of shit," Kent growls.

"Such unfortunate language." I reply, shaking my head. I don't understand what Juliette saw… sees in Kent. "Only those who cannot express themselves intelligently would resort to such crude substitutions in vocabulary." I want to push him. I yearn for Juliette to see what he is really like. I weigh his feelings, telling her everything I see, everything he is hiding. "Is it because I intimidate you, Kent? Am I making you nervous?" I laugh, proud to be having this effect on him. Perhaps there is some truth behind his worries about me and Juliette. I hope he is right. "You seem to be struggling to hold yourself together."

"I will kill you—" Kent rages and I cock my head as he charges towards me.

This will be fun.

A split second before I imagine I would have bashed his head into the wall, Kishimoto jumps between us. "What the hell do you two think you're doing? I don't know if you've noticed but you're standing right in front of the doorway and you're scaring the shit out of the little kids, Kent, so I'm going to have to ask you to calm your ass down."

Focusing my attention on Juliette as the two of them argue about me and Castle's intentions towards me, I find myself watching her wide eyes, her long lashes blinking so fast. _Guilt._ She is watching Kent and feeling guilty. Is it for not telling him I could touch her? I wonder again why she still didn't, especially after Castle found out. Or could it be… guilt for her feelings towards me? I had felt it the last time she was in my room. _Attraction. Longing. Guilt_ then too.

Kent's furious shouts tug me to reality. "He could go back and give away every detail of this place—he could give away our exact location!"

"That's impossible," I respond calmly, not looking away from Juliette. "I have no idea where we are."

"Don't fucking play dumb," Kent is shouting, held back by Kishimoto.

She's scared and for a moment I allow myself to believe it is for me. She finally looks up at me and I feel it again.

 _Desire.  
_  
Buried so deep under her fear and confusion. But it is there, where it wasn't when she was focused on Kent.

She has to come with me. Leaving her will break me in half.

She looks away.

And reaches out

For Kent.

No.  
No, no, no.

She's touching his arm.

Smiling at him. Speaking softly.

My chest is heaving. Anguish is coursing through my veins. My heart is tearing apart. She wanted me, I could feel it. She can't want him. She can't leave with him.  
I step in front of them, unable to let her walk away, arm-in-arm with Kent for God's sake.

I need to say something. I can't stop staring at her hand on Kent's arm, thinking back to all of the times she touched my arm like that when we were on base.

A flash of her face as she jumps out of the window to Kent's arms.

Her hands undressing me as we kiss.

A bullet tearing through me.

It feels like she has shot me all over again and I can't open my mouth to scream. All I can say is, "Juliette." Please let go of him. Come to me. You belong with me. Agony tears at my throat as she blinks at me. "Juliette-"

"Move!" Kent says, pushing me away, along with all of my good intentions of staying calm. I lose my composure, suddenly all too eager to rid myself of this inconvenience.

Juliette's hand rests lightly on my chest and every muscle in my body freezes from the unexpected touch, as if she has ripped the bones from my body. Kent is pulling her away from me and I want to lean over and rip out his throat.

I am reaching out to Juliette, feeling the wild energy swarming around us  
When a hand touches my arm and time stops.  
Euphoria washes over me and I am overwhelmed by a sheer happiness I have never felt before. My eyes close as I feel the power spreading throughout my body. I feel indestructible, like with a flick of my wrist I could knock the Earth off its axis.  
And then it is gone.

I open my eyes to Kishimoto's screams and Juliette's hand pulling away from my chest and I immediately understand. That was Juliette's power.

She has dropped to her knees and is making the most heartwrenching noise I have ever heard.

Her pain is fracturing my bones and for a split second I am worried I have hurt her with her own power.

I reach down and try to pull her face towards me, to see if she is okay. "Juliette—"

She rips away from me and runs to the dining room, screaming for Castle.

For the first time I notice Kishimoto on the floor, Kent checking for signs of life. His energy is there, muted but steady, and I know he isn't dead.

I press myself into the wall and away from the crowd forming in front of me, trying to still my trembling hands as I come down from the rush of adrenaline. I think back to the millisecond before the power flowed through me and I remember touching Juliette's energy. A jolt had ripped through me as I absorbed her energy into myself. I wasn't sure how long the transfer of energy had taken, but I imagine it took mere seconds. Mere seconds in which I had never felt more alive.

People rush into the hallway, lifting Kishimoto, racing towards the hospital. I can feel their anger and fear, their unspoken accusations towards Juliette. I clench my fists and my eyes find the only person who matters to me. Juliette is stumbling in the opposite direction of the crowd.

I follow her. She stands in the hallway, shaking, staring at her hands. More than anything I want to hold her, but her pain is drowning me, my head is spinning. I'm not sure how she will react to me being here.

She falls to the floor.

I have to try. "Juliette."

She nearly jumps out of her skin. She is shaking, crying, waving her hands wildly. "Stay away from me. Go away—"

"Juliette, please," My voice is shaking from her pain, which like a thick blanket, shrouds my entire being. I've felt the pain of others before and have always been for the most part unaffected. But now, with Juliette, to feel it to this degree, clear to my bones…I have never met anyone who affects me like this. She has burrowed her way into my soul and I couldn't tear her out if I wanted to. Her emotions are spinning, as if she hasn't yet landed. Deep down I know I am probably the last person she wants to see, but I'm not sure my legs would walk away from her if I ordered them to.

"I said stay away from me. I don't want to talk to you. Please—just leave me alone!"

"I can't abandon you like this!" I say, and I know it is literally true. Even my will to live is tied to her now. "Not when you're crying!"

"Maybe you wouldn't understand that emotion," she glares up from behind the hair falling into her face. "Maybe you wouldn't care because killing people means nothing to you!"

 _Hatred._ An emotion I am used to. Suddenly I can't catch my breath. She's the only person who I have ever allowed to see behind the curtain, behind the mask. The only one to see any part of me. If she rejects me now, I'm afraid I will sink into oblivion. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Kenji!" She yells. "I did that! It's my fault! It's my fault you and Adam were fighting and it's my fault Kenji came out to stop you and it's my fault. It's my fault he's dead!"

I'm shocked. Her hatred is internal. She thinks she killed her friend. Fear strikes me as I wonder how she will react when she finds out I was the one who used her power. I gather myself. I can't fall apart and I can't give in to my fear. I'm here for her and I rein my emotions. My usual level-headed response attempts to soothe her self-condemnation. "Don't be ridiculous. He's not dead."

She shatters into a thousand pieces. Each of her sobs is like a knife stabbing deep inside me. I kneel down next to her. "Of course he is dead, he was laying there on the floor. I don't even think he was breathing! This is all my fault. My fault. My fault. I wasn't wearing my gloves and I must have touched him…"

There it is again. The intensity of her pain is so great. Her agony flowing through me is enough to make me want to vomit. Tentatively I place a hand on her shoulder and she shoves me away.

"Why are you even here? You don't care about anyone at all. You are selfish. You are a terrible, horrible person who does terrible, horrible things. Everyone hates you, you probably don't even know what it is like to care about someone."

But I do.

"You don't have a heart, you wouldn't even understand what it is like to feel like this." She is sobbing again.

I don't tell her I know exactly what it feels like. What she feels like right now. That it is killing me. I don't argue with the things she said because they are mostly true.

She is shaking so hard I'm scared she is going to fall apart. Unable to stop myself, I reach out and pull her towards me, trying to hold her together. To my surprise she doesn't fight me. She wraps her arms around me and is nuzzling her head in my shirt. Her touch sends a shock through me and I close my eyes. I can feel her agony and I know there is no hidden meaning in this touch. But apart from her hand on my chest earlier, this is the first time she has touched me since we were on base. I absorb her pain as it is my own, the tremors of her small frame as she sobs against me. I allow myself to pretend, just for a moment, that when she stops crying, she will stay here in my arms.

Her crying slows. Her soft skin in my arms, so fragile yet so strong, is causing havoc on my heartbeat. Pushing her hair from her face and rubbing her back gently, I give myself one more moment before she will pull away. And selfishly I think of how much I yearn to kiss her.

I squeeze her tight, as if I could keep her against me forever, before I look down at her and force the words from my mouth. "You didn't kill him, love."

"Maybe you didn't see what I saw," she whispers, the image of Kishimoto on the floor haunting her.

"You are misunderstanding the situation entirely. You didn't do anything to hurt him."

"What are you talking about?"

"It wasn't you. I know it wasn't you."

She finally looks up at me, and for a moment I'm not sure if I will be able to tell her. To see those eyes turn cold against me. "How can you know something like that?"

"Because, it wasn't you who hurt Kenji. It was me."

"What?" Her whisper is deathly low and I loosen my grip around her, not wanting to force her near me if she decides to run.

"He's not dead," I say carefully, thinking of the energy I could feel radiating off him as they took him away. "though he is severely injured. I suspect they should be able to revive him."

 _Panic._ "What? What are you talking about—" She is shaking so hard I am worried she might collapse. I convince her to sit and am surprised when she chooses to sit only centimeters away from me. Her energy is radiating from her in waves of confusion but I feel the agony in her heart beginning to clear.

"I didn't want to believe Castle when he told me I might have a … a gift," I say softly, endeavoring to accept this new part of myself as I hope she had accepted herself. "A part of me hoped he was trying to drive me mad for his own benefit. But it did make a bit of sense, if I really thought about it." How easy it had always been to feel everyone's hatred for me, my father's hatred. Even my mother's sometimes. A small shudder went through me. "Castle told me about Kent, too. About how he can touch you," Bile creeps up my throat as I think of seeing him touch her today, her hand on his arm. "and how they've discovered why. For a moment I wondered if perhaps I had a similar ability. One just as pathetic. Equally as useless. I was extremely reluctant to believe it."

"It's not a useless ability," she says loyally, and I try not to let her words smart. I tell her about how I can sense her emotions more than others and I search her, naming each one. _Fear. Hesitation. Grief._

"You can really feel that?" she asks. I nod. "I never knew that was possible."

"I didn't either—I wasn't aware of it," I say, thinking back to all the times I had used this ability. All the times my father had taken advantage of my talents as a "freak" without even realizing. "Not for a very long time. I actually thought it was normal to be so acutely aware of human emotions. I thought perhaps I was more perceptive than most. It's a big factor in why my father allowed me to take over Sector 45," I say, thinking back to the series of tests he created to judge my worthiness. "Because I have an uncanny ability to tell whenever someone is hiding something, or feeling guilty, or, most importantly, lying." There was a reason using Juliette as a torture device was a natural suggestion. Part of my test had been in his torture chambers, judging truthfulness of the captives' statements. And when they lied…

"That, and because I'm not afraid to deliver consequences if the occasion calls for it."

"And I can't hurt you?" she says after I explain the nature of my abilities. "At all? My power just goes into you? You just absorb it?" _Hope._ From her and me.

"Would you like to see?" I say, eager both to touch her and feel her power course through me.

"Yes. Yes. Yes." She says, nodding over and over. I try to rein myself in as her emotions shift and a sudden surge of her excitement assaults me. It gives me hope until I remember she still loves Adam. Not me. "What do I have to do?"

"Nothing. Just touch me." I whisper, as if I keep my voice down, she won't notice how much I am aching for her touch. I hold out my hand and she takes it.

I close my eyes for a second, allowing myself to be satisfied with the exhilaration that comes just from her skin on mine. Before she can notice nothing is happening though, I squeeze her hand and reach out and touch her energy, pulling it towards me.

I gasp as a rush of warmth and adrenaline rushes through me and my eyes fly open.

I punch through the floor.

Then it is gone and Juliette is floundering away from me. Terrified.

"Don't be afraid—" My chest is heaving, whether from the use of her power or the possibility of her rejection, I am not sure.

"H-how," She is shaking and I feel terrible, knowing it is my fault. "how did you d-do that—"

Is she worried I will hurt her? "Don't be frightened, love, it's all right, I promise—it's new for me, too—"

"My—my power? It doesn't—you don't feel any pain?"

She is worried about me. I should relax, but the idea of anyone being worried about my pain is completely foreign and I'm not sure how to react. "On the contrary. It's the most incredible rush of adrenaline—it's unlike anything I've ever known. I actually feel a little light-headed, in the best possible way." Although I'm unsure whether the light-headedness is from her power or just her touch. I smile before dropping my head into my hands. I need to control my thoughts. She might not want to come with me when I leave. She might want to stay with him. I think of how it felt to hold her in my arms. To feel her hair against my cheek. Her hand in my hand. "Can we do it again?"

"No!" She says, but I can tell she wants to.

I grin at her uncertainty, "Are you sure?"

"I can't—I just, I still can't believe you can touch me. That you really—I mean, there's no catch? There are no conditions? You touch me and no one gets hurt?" My heart is pounding. She isn't thinking about me using her power, she is thinking about… _me… touching her._ She…  wants me to touch her, might allow it to happen again. "And not only does no one get hurt, but you enjoy it? You actually like the way it feels to touch me?"

I don't know what to say. Confess I would never stop touching her if she would let me. Promise I could make her forget she ever knew another man's name. Tell her I have never felt as alive and happy as the few times my skin has brushed hers.

"Well?"

"Yes," I breathe.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes," my eyes search hers and I'm trying to tell her everything. I want her to read me as easily as I read her. "I like it. You never have to be afraid of touching me," Although I am afraid. So afraid. "It won't hurt me. It can only give me strength." The strength to be the kind of person she wants. The strength to show her every part of myself. I long for that strength.

She is silent for a few moments and I've shown her too much of myself. "Warner." She looks up and I drown in her blue-green eyes. "You have to tell Castle."

Confused as to why Castle would need to know I like touching her, I ask, "Why would I do that?"

"Because he has to know! It would explain Kenji's situation and it could help us tomorrow! You'll be fighting with us and it might come in handy—"

Unable to stop myself, I laugh. Confusion fills her features. When I had spoken with her earlier, I had told her my intention to leave. Did she really think this band of misfits had convinced me to fight with them?

Does she want me to stay here and fight with her… for her? Looking down at her hand, I know there are only two people I would fight for in this world. Unable to look into the eyes of the one closest to me, I brush her hand carefully.

She doesn't move. _Nervous._ And again, that hint of _desire_.

Inhaling deeply, I take her hand gently. I want to memorize some part of her and I am too scared to look up and see her face. I run my fingers along each part of her hand, wanting to touch every part of it, allowing the electricity of her touch to pulse through me.

She snatches away her hand. _Embarrassed._ I stare at my hands, now so empty, the memory of her hand lingering in mine.

"You're not fighting with us tomorrow," she says after I tell her my reservations about Castle's inexperience. _Disappointment._

She wants me to stay. I smile. "I'm going to leave."

"You're going to leave." _Sadness. Regret._

"I don't belong here," I lie. Because I belong with her. I know it.

"I don't understand—how can you leave? You told Castle you're going to fight with us tomorrow—does he know you're leaving? Does anyone know? What do you have planned? What are you going to do?"

I stare into her eyes. Run away with you, I think. Conquer the world with you by my side. I can't leave this, not while there is still hope in her voice.

"What are you going to do, Warner—"

"Juliette," I whisper urgently. I have to convince her to come with me or we will both die here. "I need to ask you somethi—"

Another voice is louder. Kent is running towards us calling, "Juliette! Where are you?"

She stands up, worried something has happened to Kenji, longing for Kent's voice. I wish I didn't know her as well as I do.

"Wait here," she says, running towards Kent.

Instead, I walk the other way. But I know I will wait here if she asks. I will die tomorrow with her band of ill-prepared soldiers with one word from her lips. Because I love her. And for the first time, I believe she might feel the same.

 **A/N: Now you have a homework assignment! I am completely incapable of writing sexy scenes but you all must know that what comes next is the HOT Chapter 62! So if you are aching for some sexiness, head over to sweetwaterspice's story, Golden Touch. It doesn't exactly fit in my story as hers has an alternate (and sexy) ending, but if you need a fill of some Warner, check it out! My next chapter WILL start in Chapter 62 but I will be writing about what is going on in Warner's head, not what his gorgeous body is doing :P**


	7. Agony: Chapter 62

I'm flying.

Kissing her, all over. I'm tethered to the ground only by her touch, her soft, beautiful lips on mine.

My breathing is ragged, urgent. I need her. I want to take her and envelop her, ignite her.

She can feel it. The desperation, the ache, the need growing between us. I know because I can feel her every thought. The frayed edges of her heart are reaching out to me, knitting themselves with the jagged edges of my own. I'm consuming her desire and it is bursting out of me at the seams.

I've never felt anything like it. There have been other women. Meaningless encounters driven by lust or a need to escape. But suddenly I can't remember who or why. This feeling is completely new. There is no one else in the entire world. It is me and her. And I barely remember my own name. All I can think about is surrendering myself completely to her pleasure. She fills me with charge of electricity I have never known.

She is clinging to me, hands clenched behind my neck. I kiss her everywhere. I want to taste every inch of her. Ecstasy. I feel impervious, euphoric, indestructible. This time it has nothing to do with Juliette's power, and everything to do with her hands threading through my hair as she kisses me.  
Bliss. I've rarely enjoyed more than a few brief moments of happiness in my life, which were short-lived and soon subdued by the harsh reality of my life. Nothing has ever come close to this. My soul is pulling her feelings from her, combining them with my own love. The few walls I had left around my heart have crumbled, nothing holding it inside me anymore. I am giving it to her, every beat, for the rest of my life. Completely vulnerable. I look at her and it must be written on my face.

"Juliette."

She closes her eyes, a rush of pleasure shooting from her heart to mine.

"I don't want you to call me Warner anymore. I want you to know me. I don't want to be Warner with you. I want it to be different now. I want you to call me Aaron."

Time freezes as I fill my heart with this moment, steal it from eternity. Love has overwhelmed me, shut down my defenses. I can feel her longing, her elation, it is overwhelming as I drink her in, my heart

Building,

Soaring,

Bursting…

Falling.

Ripping.

"Adam," she whispers.

Shattering.

Agony.

My arms ache as the weight of her presence lifts away from me, out of reach.

 _Hatred, self-loathing, despair._

My thoughts are not my own. My feelings are not my own.

She has reached inside me and I can't breathe. I can't stop drinking her in, her anguish. I can't break this connection with her and it is killing me.

My heart is shuddering and I clutch my hand over it, searching for the knife that must have been driven into me.

I try to stand, but I am shaking. I'm being consumed by the combination of her pain and my own, drowning underneath it. We were meshed so closely I can't seem to separate her feelings from mine, and I feel my heart ripping from my chest. I must be dying.

I'm shaking my head, trying to get her out of it. Her mind is being filled with a new pain, a new want. Every cell on my body is on fire, my skin is prickling with agony. It is shredding me, destroying me.

I stare at my hands, unsure whether I am still alive.

"What is happening to me?" I whisper. "Am I dreaming?"

I reach out to her with my soul, frantic to restore a piece of myself. She is floundering in confusion and heartbreak mirroring my own.

But

I feel it. _Regret, resolve.  
_  
"You're choosing him?" I am going to collapse under the hurricane that just passed through me. My heart was so intertwined with hers that it has fractured, a part has died. "Is that what just happened? You're choosing Kent over me?" I'm panicking, trying to find any semblance of myself but I can't hold on, I've given all of the pieces away. "Because I don't think I understand what just happened and I need you to say something. I need you to tell me what the hell is happening to me right now."

Just when I thought I couldn't fall further into the sinking pit of reality, her words pull me deeper. "No. No, I'm not choosing anyone—I'm not—I'm n-not—"

"Why? Because he's the safer choice for you? Because you think you owe him something? You are making a mistake," My tone is rising too fast and I am afraid for how much I sound like my father. "You're scared. You don't want to make the difficult choice and you're running away from me."

"Maybe I just d-don't want to be with you."

"I know you want to be with me!" I explode, the world crashing around me.

"You're wrong."

The words strike me harder than my father ever has. She's lying. I shake my head, trying to clear it. She had wanted me, right? Had I wanted this so badly I had imagined her feelings for me? I stare into her eyes, trying to read her, not trusting myself.  
I step closer. "Really?"

"Y-yes," she stutters. Another lie. Because I feel the desire in her even now. My anger is set to implode and I take a deep breath and another step towards her.

"So I'm wrong." I whisper, "I'm wrong that you want me. That you want to be with me." I run my fingers down her body and she is trembling with longing, a need I know I can fill in her. "Tell me something, love. Am I blind, too?" Her ragged breathing fills the silence between us.

"I will not be your clown!" I pull away, rubbing my eyes, willing myself to wake up from this nightmare. She knew how I felt about her. Did she want to see how far I would go, how close I would allow her to become? Was she looking for the thrill of a bad boy before she ran off to her perfect Adam? "I will not allow you to make a mockery of my feelings for you! I could respect your decision to shoot me, Juliette, but doing this—doing—doing what you just did—" She has broken me. I can feel it, a fissure cracking the part of me that makes me who I am. Because I had given her everything, every part of me. I had unlocked my heart and given her the key and she had used it as a weapon against me.

She doesn't want Adam. She can't. I've never been so wrong about a person's feelings before. She wants me and is scared of what that means.

I feel like my head is going to explode, I'm losing my mind. "It's the play of a coward. I thought you were so much better than that."

"I'm not a coward—"

"Then be honest with yourself!" I choke on the lump building in my throat. "Be honest with me! Tell me the truth!"

 _Anger._ "The truth is that I never know what to think of you! Your actions, your behavior—you're never consistent! You're horrible to me and then you're kind to me and you tell me you love me and then you hurt the ones I care most about!"

The ones I care most about. Adam. Not me.

"And you're a liar," she is moving further away now, distancing herself from her mistake. "You say you don't care about what you do—you say you don't care about other people and what you've done to them but I don't believe it. I think you're hiding. I think the real you is hiding underneath all of the destruction and I think you're better than this life you've chosen for yourself. I think you can change. I think you could be different. " A knot forms in my stomach. I'm not good enough for her. Deep down, I knew this, but I thought she had seen something no one else could.

I stand slack jawed, as she paces in a tight circle in front of me, waving her hands wildly. "And I feel sorry for you! I'm sorry for your horrible childhood. I'm sorry you have such a miserable, worthless father and I'm sorry no one ever took a chance on you. I'm sorry for the terrible decisions you've made. I'm sorry that you feel trapped by them, that you think of yourself as a monster who can't be changed. But most of all… most of all I'm sorry that you have no mercy for yourself!"

I cringe. I knew she was different from all the others in her lack of hatred. But I thought… I assumed…

This was worse.

"You pity me," The words seem so strange coming out of my mouth. No one has ever pitied me and it hates how weak it makes me feel. She couldn't possibly imagine the terrible crimes I've committed, has no way to know how little I deserve anyone's sympathy. "You think I'm some kind of broken project you can repair."  
She is standing frozen now. _Regret._ She regrets letting me in here, allowing me to kiss her. She can't wait to get back to Kent. "No—I didn't—"

"You have no idea what I've done!" I'm trying to keep my voice controlled, but my fury is leaking out. "You have no idea what I've seen, what I've had to be a part of. You have no idea what I'm capable of or how much mercy I deserve. I know my own heart. I know who I am. Don't you dare pity me!"

I pause, speaking mostly to myself. "I thought you could love me for me," I want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it now. How could she ever love me? She just felt bad for me, felt it was her duty to try and fix me. "I thought you would be the one person in this godforsaken world who would accept me as I am! I thought you, of all people, would understand." I knew she had also hated herself, the words in her journal were so strikingly similar to my own mind. But she thinks I'm weak, that she can fix me. And I thought she actually wanted to be with me. "I was wrong. I was so horribly, horribly wrong."

I pull away, shaking with anger, mostly at my own stupidity. My shirt is lying on the floor and I am tempted to laugh at how quickly this night had turned against me, how incredibly naïve and confident I had been when I walked into this room.

I'm heading to the door when her touch sears my arm. "Please—that's not what I meant—"

I spin around, "I do not want your sympathy!"

"I wasn't trying to hurt you—"

And she wasn't. She was honestly telling me how she felt, which made it all worse. "The truth is a painful reminder of why I prefer to live among the lies." I look into her eyes, searching her face. How was I so wrong about her feelings for me? I have crashed so hard into reality and I have never felt so alone. Before, I didn't know what I was missing, but now I have held her in my arms and felt so blissfully happy and it feels like the small piece of myself I have shielded from the world all these years is gone. Now I'm just the empty shell of the monster my father has created, no facade of a heart remaining.

I glance at the door and pain washes over me. Even now, after she has chosen another, truly destroyed me, I know separating myself from her will tear a hole in me that can never be filled.

Am I really going to leave her here to die in a hopeless battle? I still want to save her, even if she can't be mine. I open my mouth to say something before pressing my lips together. She isn't mine to protect, she is Kent's. There is nothing left for me to say, no words will make her mine again.  
My chest is so tight it almost doesn't allow me to take a breath and I turn back towards the door. "Good-bye, Juliette."

I try to block it out her sizzling energy. I don't want to know what she is feeling about me now. Her words stop me before I reach the exit. "I won't see you again."

I'm suffocating because she is my oxygen and I am in short supply. I glance up to her wide, distraught eyes but turn away, unable to look at what I thought I'd had. Never seeing her again might be a life sentence, but I think if I am faced with her once more it might be worse than death. My voice trembles as I stare at the wall, "I certainly hope not."

And I walk out the door.

 **A/N: Well that was incredibly painful to write!**

 **"Adam" - The most heartbreaking word ever!**

 **Like I've said before, I plan to write this through to the end of Unravel Me. So we will see where Warner goes before he is called back to his mom's house.**

 **Let me know what you think! Every comment/fav/follow motivates me to keep writing!**


	8. Betrayal: Return to Base

**A/N: We are almost to the end of the book! I am going with one or two more chapters before we start Ignite Me :D I can't wait for that pager scene! Thanks to sweetwaterspice for her help with the Anderson/ Warner convo. I have it on good authority she will be posting an exciting Warner POV this week, so keep your eye out!**

 **Percyjacksonfan16: I reread Ch 62 last week and I seriously was like, WTF JULIETTE! Right after he is totally vulnerable to her. Low blow. Anyway, thanks for not hating me!**

 **Christa: On the bright side, without this scene, we wouldn't have all of the awesomeness that is heartbroken warner in Ignite Me. Also, I have this theory, that if Juliette hadn't said "Adam", Warner would have stayed, Anderson would have collected both of them, killed Juliette, and maybe killed Warner too (but either way he would not have been left in charge of the sector). So basically, her saying "Adam" saved the world :P**

 **Everyone else: Thank you so much for your reviews! I believe I PMd everyone!**

* * *

I follow my planned escape route in a daze, my mind spinning. What had just happened?

 _A trail of kisses down her stomach._

 _Her hands gripping my hair._

 _The searing pain of betrayal._

I lean against the wall in the darkened corridor, breathing heavily. White walls. White walls. But for once I couldn't picture them. I couldn't picture anything but her horrified face as she realized what she had done.

Kissed me. Let me hold her.

Repulsive. What kind of person could care for me?

She felt sorry for me, for the monster inside.

I had shown her everything, allowed myself to be completely vulnerable. I laugh, thinking my father could never have inflicted this torture, but I had learned my lesson all the same.

I could never allow myself to be weak again.

Determined to put distance between myself and the woman who had ripped out my heart, I take a deep breath, steadying myself. Looking up, I see two guards between me and the exit. These are the last two blocking my path.

I march towards them with shoulders straight. One of them steps in front of me, "It's past curfew. You need to go back to your room."

 _Fear._ Well I still have that working towards me.

"Castle gave me permission to be out of my room. You can check with him if you'd like," I lie steadily. "I'm helping him with last minute plans for tomorrow."

The two guards look at each other, conferring, but I know I've won. The guard steps aside and I turn a corner to the exit.

Blackness surrounds me. I have no idea where I am besides in a barren field in the middle of nowhere. I glance around but see no lights or sign of life. I look up and see a few stars barely visible in the haze of Earth's dying atmosphere. Luckily, one of the soon-to-be-banned books I had studied had covered astronomy. With a general sense of the direction I should head, I set off in a run, eager to put distance between myself and this place.

Running at a decent pace, I allow the routine of exercise to quiet my mind. Focusing on the rhythm of each pounding step, I make a plan.

Force the first person I see to take me back to base.

No.

Unbidden, the image of Juliette's slender neck, covered in red marks fills my mind and I stumble.

I can't put her in danger. I need to get farther away from Omega Point so my father doesn't find out its location.

Trying to find the rhythm of my run again, I can't get her face out of my mind and the agonizing pain creeps back into my chest.

Dear God, I couldn't stop caring about that woman when she shot me with my own gun, what did I expect?

I try to focus my mind. White walls. White walls crumbling too fast to keep up with. White walls. White walls with a thin mattress inside. Juliette, wide-eyed, staring at my tattoo. Juliette leaning against a white wall, talking about reading books. Juliette standing above me, pain etched on her face, asking about my scars.  
Feeling sorry for me.

My legs have been cut out from under me and I fall into an abyss of pain. My knee hits a rock, but the sting is nothing in comparison to the ache in every cell of my body. I love her. I love her more than anything in my God-forsaken life and it doesn't matter. She will never feel the same. In the morning she will run into Kent's arms and forget I exist. Forget about her almost-mistake, her charity case. Poor Warner with the evil father and no one to talk to.

I have nothing. I am nothing.

Where am I even going? Back to base? Last time I saw my father I was holding a gun to him. I shiver at the thought of his retribution. He will kill me.

I hope.

The weakness I showed in opening myself up to her, the words that poured out of my mouth, is enough to make me sick.

Perhaps this agony was retribution from the universe for my crimes. I think back to the hardened shell I had created for myself before Juliette had walked in and destroyed it with a flick of her hand. I want to go back to that. I want the hate and apathy to once again fill me. To never allow another person to break me like this.  
But I know I can't go back. This yearning, all-consuming love I feel for Juliette will never disappear and I will spend the rest of my miserable life thinking of what could have been if I was the man who deserved her.

I punch the ground. Anger. Yes, this I can do. She made me fall for her. Then when she knew how I felt and she crushed me. For him. Adam Kent. God, I hate him. And her, for loving him and not me.

But I know I don't deserve her. She should be happy, and if she is happy with mindless Kent, the one thing I can do is try to keep her from getting killed.

I stand up.

Take a step forward.

Take a step away from Juliette.

I can do this. I can walk away. I will never rid myself of this agonizing love, but I can hate her for what she has done to me. I swallow back my feelings, emptying myself. Hardening myself.

I will go back to base. I will not betray Juliette. My father will most likely kill me.

If he doesn't, I will try and protect Juliette. After my father leaves, I can keep the soldiers away, allow her to live in peace.

Away from me. But alive. And happy.

And I may hate her for what she has done, but she will be alive.

* * *

I hear the tank before I see it. I'm running down the middle of the road. It is still dark out. I stop, crossing my arms in my most intimidating stance, until the headlights pass over me and the tank rolls to a stop.

A gun pops out of an open door, followed by a soldier. He is storming towards me, ready to arrest me for breaking curfew or obstructing the mission. When he gets close enough to see my face, he halts.

"Com- Commander Warner?" He stutters. I stand glowering until he pounds a fist to his chest and lowers his eyes.

"Right. Well if you have decided not to run me over, please take me back to base." The soldier is shocked at the word "please" and I internally kick myself. I've spent too much time at Omega Point, I need to have myself under control before I am face-to-face with my father.

Climbing into the front seat of the tank, I am met with the shocked expressions of two other soldiers.

"Should we comm ahead, sir? To let the Supreme know you have been found?" A soldier asks from the back seat.

"No." I command. The last thing I need is to give my father any time to prepare for my homecoming and for his revenge. "The prodigal son's return will be a surprise." When I am met with three blank stares, I roll my eyes, looking again out the window.

I wonder if Juliette would have understood the reference.

Pain causes me to double over in my seat and I find I am unable to find my next breath.

I will never see her again. I will never hear her voice or be responsible for an adorable outburst of irrational anger or a sweet sigh from her lips or a burst of unbelieving laughter.

"Adam," I hear her whisper, the word repeating again and again in my mind to torture me.

"Are you alright, sir?" The driver asks.

"Fine," I manage, sitting up straight again. The shock of the night is not helping the situation I am in. I clear my mind again, trying to realign myself with the person I was before I got myself into this mess. I glance at the wary soldier before realization hits me and I swear under my breath. He thinks I am injured. Of course, a prisoner of war would be injured. I should have considered giving myself a few injuries before heading back. My father might take my unscathed state to mean I had colluded with the enemy instead of being held prisoner. Too late now. I will not be left alone for long enough for self-harm to be an option.

The sun is coming up over the horizon and we are pulling up to base before I finally have an idea resembling a plan.

* * *

Ignoring the surprised stares of those who wished me dead, I walk straight to the office my father would be using during his so-called surprise visit. I would have rather gone to my own room to take a hot shower, or to my training facilities to punch something, but I don't want to risk my father finding me with my guard down.

I take a deep breath, hiding my heart like I had learned to do long ago, before opening the door.

My father is surrounded by a few of his guards, deeply concentrating on a document in front of him.

"Father," I state coolly.

He looks up. _Surprise. Satisfaction. Distrust._ My new understanding of my gift is already proving useful. He leans back in his chair, studying me. "Aaron. You look well."

"Yes, thanks for the rescue party," I say sarcastically.

"I knew any half-competent son of mine could handle a few freaks," he says and I do not flinch at the slur. Especially when your son is one, I think. "Sit," he says to me, motioning at his guards. To my chagrin, they do not leave, but stand at attention against the walls, surrounding us. Maybe I was right and he will kill me.

"Now, Aaron. It seems we have a lot to discuss. Where were we when we last saw each other?" He pretends to consider and I can see the wheels turning, making me nervous. But I keep a calm exterior and maintain eye contact. "Ah, that's right. You pointed a gun at me and then your girlfriend shot me." _Fury._ "Would you like to see what she has done?" Unsteadily, he stands up, supporting himself with a cane. If not for the murderous look in his eye, I might be tempted to laugh. I had no idea Juliette had done so much damage. The thought sends chills down my spine but a sense of satisfaction through my heart. His knees are shaking as he takes slow steps towards me and I know his retribution will know no bounds.

A hard slap rings across my cheek and I force myself to look back in his general direction, ignoring the burning sensation in my cheek. I know whatever his plan is for me will be a lot worse than this. "This is your fault, you idiot," he seethes. "Look at what she did. Because you allowed her to make you weak." This level of his wrath has never been directed toward me. In situations I've felt it before, it is usually followed by death.

"I know," I interrupt, and I see surprise register in my father's expression. "She made me weak and I will not let it happen again." I swallow the bile rising in my throat at the thought of Juliette and remind myself to hate her. This is as close to an apology as he will extract from me and he knows it. I can feel his satisfaction.

My father smiles and takes a seat next to me, and my skin prickles at his closeness. My legs ache at the need to escape this room, but I know this is far from over. "I take it your reunion did not go as you had hoped?" He says dryly.

"You mean when she kidnapped me and held me prisoner?" I deflect.

His eyes darken threateningly. "Yes, how did she manage that?"

"Knocked me out. I'm not sure how, I had lost a lot of blood, if you remember," I accuse not-so-subtly.

I can tell by my father's expression he had forgotten about his mistreatment of my bullet wound until I mentioned it. His eyes are raking over me but I keep my gaze steady on a point on the wall behind him. Suddenly, he reaches over, grabs the collar of my shirt, and rips my shirt down the front.

An exhale catches in my throat and I brace myself against the inevitable pain he will inflict. Surprised, I jerk back with disgust when his fingers brush the point where my bullet wound once was. _Greed. Jealousy. Anger._

"How?" He growls.

I stare at the wall, my face blank of emotion. I don't look at my torn shirt, my dignity stripped for the audience standing around me. I control my breathing but I can't stop my ears from burning with humiliation.

I can't hide the obvious miraculous recovery of my injury. My answer, though unprepared, is concise. "Two girls with a healing ability, I was told."

"Were you on vacation?" My father smacks the table hard and the guards surrounding us jump. I remain still, being the focus of my father's anger is not new to me. His voice is slightly raised, tinged with frustration. "You don't have a scratch on you and you expect me to believe you have been held against your will? Why would they waste time healing my pathetic son? What did you tell them?"

"Nothing," I lie smoothly. In the haze of my night with Juliette, I had forgotten to account for the healed bullet wound, but this line of questioning I was prepared for. I had decided to remain as close to the truth as possible. "Their operation is crude at best. They didn't even have a cell to keep me in, much less a way to torture me. Their interrogator was inexperienced, nothing I couldn't handle." I do not let my mind wander to my "interrogations" with Juliette, but I feel the pain return to my chest, a fresh reminder of her betrayal. "All they ever asked about or concerned themselves with regarded your two hostages, which I could honestly tell them were under your control, not mine."

"And where is this base?" he asks, through a tightly clenched jaw.

"I don't know the details we need. I was unconscious when I arrived and it was dark when I left. All I know is that it's underground," I say, knowing he already has this information from when we took the hostages.

"You got out just fine, Aaron," he states accusingly. "Could you at least recall in that useless brain of yours at least the entry point?!" his voice climbs and ends in a thunderous growl.

I bite the inside of my mouth to keep the lies as steady as my voice. "I wouldn't be able to find the entrance again. It didn't seem to be in the same area from which we collected the hostages, they must have been on some kind of mission," I know exactly how to return to Omega Point and I know the hostages were, in fact, found directly outside of the well-hidden mouth of the base. But to admit it would put Juliette in danger, a risk I am not willing to take.

He snickers. "So they just let you walk out?"

"I escaped. Convinced them I was on their side and left last night." The easiest way to protect yourself under interrogation is to stick as close to the truth as possible, a tactic my father himself had taught me.

"And they just believed you?"

"I was compliant. The model prisoner. And they were told the last time I saw you I held a gun to your head. It didn't take much convincing. They are naïve, inexperienced and far too quick to trust."

A knock on the door draws my father's attention and I am thankful for the reprieve. I want to limit the focus of my disobedience at our last meeting. I don't want him to get ideas about reuniting me with Juliette under similar circumstances. He motions to a guard to open the door and another of his elite guard walks in.

"Sir!" The soldier stands at attention.

"Stop wasting my time and get on with it," my father commands, annoyed at the interruption of his interrogation.

"Sir, a group of rebels has gathered near the compounds. They are attempting to prevent the arrests of conspirators, sir."

"As expected. Take care of it. And let me know as soon as information is extracted about their base."

Take care of it. Extracted. My mouth goes dry. He is going to torture and kill them. Juliette is somewhere out there. I pray she's not captured. God, why didn't I try harder to convince her to come with me? I push the thought away. She was never mine to begin with, she made that clear from the time she jumped out of the window to run away from me. And now our survival depends on me focusing. When the guard leaves, I say, "What is the update on the compounds?"

My father eyes me curiously. I hope I have done enough to convince him he can trust me to some degree. I'm holding my breath and exhale slowly, relieved as he divulges, "I have sent most of your men, as planned, to the compounds. I assumed the rebels would be anxious to protect the civilians, and it seems I was right. I will find the location of their base and destroy it."

I nod once, and a small voice in my head wonders what will happen to the girls who healed me, to naive Castle, to Kenji, who must still be in the hospital wing. I shake my head. Commander Warner would not care about them.

And Juliette…

She is strong. Stronger than my father would have expected. She can peel apart steel like it was made of paper. She can take care of herself. And she doesn't need me or want my help.

I stare at the table, building white walls in my head.

My father speaks, "Now where were we. Ah, yes. My idiot son fell in love with a girl and pointed a gun at my head." His eyes narrow. "I confess, I didn't actually expect you to show up here after that stunt. I thought you would either join your girlfriend to be slaughtered on the battlefield, or you would die at Omega Point. You must have considered my unfavorable reaction before you returned here." I remain silent. "Never mind, I have something quite appropriate planned." My shoulders tense automatically. Retribution. Never before had I so vehemently disobeyed my father. Whatever he has planned will be violent and painful. I digest his threat. He is an unforgiving man so I expect the price I will pay will be a high one. I stare at the wall, steeling myself for whatever is to come. "I'm not quite ready yet, however." He waves a guard over before turning back to me. "You will remain in your quarters until I corroborate your story with one of your rebel friends." Before I can say another word, he waves his hand in dismissal.

* * *

Hours later I ride the elevator up from my training facilities. My shoulder throbs, although it had been completely healed it is weak from misuse and hadn't been ready for the hours of exercise I had just completed. With nothing else to do, I had spent time on cardio, followed by a punishing date with a punching bag. I tried to put everything into my punches, the pain, betrayal, and anger building inside me. I hoped that if every part of my body ached with pain, everything else would go away. So far it hadn't worked, although imagining the punching bag as Adam Kent had been momentarily satisfying. Stepping out of the elevator, I find my father sitting at my desk. Stifling an internal groan, I say, "What do you want?"

He is twirling a pen between his fingers, not looking at me. "To let you know I've cleared your story. The gentleman my guard had the pleasure of meeting didn't know all of the details, but said you had been kept prisoner under locked guard before their leader announced you would be fighting with them. It seems they were all quite angry with your betrayal." He pauses, watching me. I do not release the breath I am holding. I'm waiting for him to say he knows of my gift, but he doesn't. Instead, he gets up and walks to the door. "Come, we have work to do."

He gives me enough time to change from shorts and a tshirt into my suit before we are marching down the hall and back to his lair. I am dirty and sweaty, which irks me to no end. But so far I am not dead, which is both less and more than I had hoped for. Awaiting my father's vengeance was not ideal, and I know forcing me to anticipate what he might do is part of his plan.

"Update," my father says as we walk into the office.

The head of his elite guard answers, "We approximate less than 100 losses. All major civilian sympathizers have been disposed of, although some of their families escaped with rebel help."

"And the battle?"

"Ongoing, sir. The intensity of their… abilities seems to be less than last time. We think some of those with the stronger abilities may have stayed behind to protect the base after Commander Warner's escape." Juliette. Would she have stayed behind? Did she think I would betray her? Probably. Apparently any feelings I thought she'd had for me must have been imagined.

"The other matter we discussed?"

"Taken care of, sir. Awaiting your attention." I look to my father questioningly but he is ignoring me.

The door bursts open and a guard enters. "Sir, we have the location of the base. Awaiting your orders."

Now my father looks at me. "Blow it out of the sky. I want no survivors." My mouth goes dry and for an instant my face betrays me.

My father smiles.

No, she isn't in there. She wouldn't have stayed behind.

A video plays on the screen in front of us. Planes are taking off, streaking for Omega Point.

My heart is pounding and I clench my fists to stop them from shaking. She is on the battlefield fighting.

Dying.

No.

After what seems like an eternity, the bombs begin to fall.

No survivors.

My father's eyes are on me again but I stare straight ahead. Juliette is alive. I would feel it if she weren't. I imagine the warmth of her energy, as if I could feel it from here, but I know it is my imagination.

My father stands up, "Get the tank ready, I will be leaving momentarily," he says to one of the guards.

"Where are you going?" I ask, my voice sounding strange.

"I have work to do. You will stay here and oversee the aftermath."

Burn bodies. Force widows back to work. Rebuild my sector, the lives he has destroyed.

I nod, looking at the table, when he slides a pager into my line of sight. "Tomorrow you and I will take care of some unfinished business. Do be prompt." My blood runs cold.


	9. Anguish: Anderson's Revenge

**A/N: I'm sorry this took so long! To make up for it, I left the chapter super long. Thank you all so much for all the reviews, favorites, and follows. If you like this story, please let me know! Each review fuels me to write more. And of course, all of the characters/ dialogue belongs to Tahereh! Thanks again to Sweetwaterspice for being the best beta reader ever!**

Beea: Thanks! I do plan to continue this story, I feel like I have already rewritten half the series!

lilsis321: Ignite Me is my favorite! I have been waiting to write it for so long. It is all so painful for Warner. I haven't heard an update on the series- just that Tahereh is involved and likes the direction it is going. Which is good, I would rather them not do anything than mess it up! I think the first few seasons would be really hard for me to watch… too much Adam and not enough true Warner. It would be so hard to see "evil" warner from Juliette's eyes!

Shattermefan: I am so glad you brought up the gym scene! I actually have already written an original scene from Warner's POV in the gym J I took your suggestions and added some parts with Adam and Kenji, but originally it was one of the convo's Juliette alludes to where James is asking Warner questions. Awkward questions. So when we get to that point in Ignite Me, I have something ready for you!

Lala-rainbowlight: Yeah, Anderson is an ahole.

ThisShipIsReal: I love to hear from another passionate Shatter Me fan! I pretty much imagine Warner is basically agonized every time he has to see her. He can't even meet her eye most of the time!

Christa: Favorite chapter, yay! It actually might be mine as well. Juliette pretty much broke him in Ch 62. I am going to expand on that when I get to Ignite Me

Sweetwaterspice: Well thanks for catching all of the details I miss! And Anderson ripping Warner's shirt… I feel like he might have been a little more physical, but Juliette never sees bruises or anything, so I suppose threats and embarrassing Warner might have been enough

* * *

"24 of the sympathizers are accounted for. Those who managed to escape are being hunted by our best trackers..."

Delalieu is rattling off a long list of updates from my "vacation time" as I drive a tank to the compounds. The battle ended as soon as the bombs began to drop on Omega Point yesterday. I need to find Juliette, and as asking my soldiers about her directly would draw my father's attention, the compounds are my best source of information.

She could be there somewhere. I could find her walking around a corner, like I had all of those weeks ago.

I wouldn't touch her this time. I just need to see her. I need to know she is alive.

Bodies are everywhere, even though soldiers worked almost all through the night. The first mass grave has just been dug as I jump out of the tank.

"Stop," I command, striding over to the hole, as the first shovel of dirt is flung over the bodies.

My hands are shaking. I clench them into fists and take a deep breath before my eyes scan the bodies. Kids. Mothers. Fathers.

She's not here.

"Continue," I order, walking back to Delalieu. I motion he should follow me as I circle the area under the guise of overseeing the progress. I check every face. She isn't here. "My men can handle this without my supervision," I say to him as I walk back to the tank. "I want to see the rebel base."

"Certainly, sir." Delalieu responds. He doesn't ask questions, he wouldn't feel it was his place. Until recently, I hadn't allowed myself to trust my grandfather. He has never acknowledged our relationship or visited his daughter. For many years I hated him. Hated him for not taking care of my mother, for watching my father use me as a pawn in his war, for seeing me as a child, bruised and broken after a night enduring my father's wrath and not doing anything about it.

But as the years passed, I began to understand him. His wholehearted dedication to the Reestablishment was clear. He was a humble soldier, too blindly devoted to question my father, or anyone in authority. And when I won my place as Commander of Sector 45, I saw that dedication transfer to me. He was proud of who I had been forced to become, and would never question my decisions. More than that, in a small way, he cared for me when no one else ever had.

When we reached the crater, fires were still burning.

"Body count?" I say, as I exit the tank.

"No bodies, sir."

I glance at him.

"There is nothing left to bury," he says. He feels none of the anger or regret I do at the sad sight of the former Omega Point. I take a deep breath. It doesn't matter, I had been expecting this devastation. She wouldn't have been here. And I didn't find her body at the battle site.

"Where are the prisoners?"

"Prisoners, sir?"

"From the battle?" Delalieu takes a surprised step back and confusion fills his face. "He must have kept prisoners, right? To question or to execute later?"

He slowly shakes his head. "No, sir. I thought you were informed. There are no survivors of the battle, the Supreme ordered everyone to be executed on sight."

The blood drains from my face.

No. No, that can't be right.

She can't be dead.

Not Juliette.

Panic is rising inside me and I'm breathing too fast. Too heavy.

"I suppose we will be tracking down any who escaped," I say, trying to keep my voice nonchalant.

"No, sir." He looks at me, his confusion clear. "Our army surrounded the battlefield. No one escaped. We have done our duty."

The world tilts and I stumble once before stopping myself from crashing to the ground.

"Sir!" I hear Delalieu say. I hold out my hand to stop him from reaching for me.

She's not dead.

My father did not kill one of the only people I love.

No. It can't be true. SHE IS NOT DEAD! I feel my stomach twist into a solid knot threatening to spill its contents on the snow covered ground.

My pager beeps.

Through the fog in my head, I instinctively reach for the pager, glancing at the coordinates that will tell me where my father wants me to be. I read the numbers.

I read them again.

And take off running for the tank. Delalieu jumps in as I am already pressing the gas. He is saying something to me, but I can't focus enough to respond.

My mother's house.

My father is at my mother's house.

He told me he was planning to punish me.

This cannot be happening. What would he do to her?

I barely manage to keep the tank on the road. My mother could die today.

Juliette could be dead.

I might have lost them both.

My hands are white on the steering wheel. Fury and despair are competing for dominance. I won't hesitate to kill my father this time. And if Juliette… my mother… the possibility of a world without either of them is so painful I can barely process the thought… if I am left alone, I only hope he will take me down with him.

* * *

I see the house in the distance. Fifteen soldiers surround the building. He is expecting a fight.

It might take more than 15 men to contain the anger coursing through my veins.

I throw on the break and leap out of the car, not bothering to shut the door. The guards step aside and I burst through into the house.

And stop.

At the familiar dark locks of the back of Juliette's head.

"Come in! Come in." My father says. "Don't be rude, say hello to our guest."

I am in such a state of shock, I cannot think clearly. Juliette. She's here. She's alive. When I left Omega Point, I accepted I would never see her again. And then I thought she was dead.

Seeing her now has set a stick of dynamite off in my chest. I will never have her, but I will do anything to keep her safe. My heart is pounding and the blood has rushed from my face. I feel distinctly ill.

Juliette is alive. In my mother's house. With my father. The scene sends a cold chill through me. It's all too eerily familiar. Images of our last reunion flood my mind. And the narrowly-avoided outcome. My thoughts break apart at the sound of my father's eager welcome.

I step forward and she looks up, drawing my attention to her neck. Blood echoes through my veins as I think of the words I had whispered, followed by the shattering betrayal which had broken me so irrevocably. Maybe I could have continued to pretend I hated her if the neck I had kissed passionately less than a day ago was not now covered in angry purple bruises. Rage fills me as my father's laughter rings through the air.

I can't catch my breath. I don't understand what she is doing here, in the last place I expected to see her. I scan her, searching frantically to ensure she isn't further injured. She's wearing my childhood clothes. I feel my jaw drop as my worlds collide. My mother. Juliette in the house I grew up in. My father.

My father. I clear my face of emotion. My whole body is tense, every cell is on fire, and it takes all of my control to keep myself from shaking and keep my face unreadable. "What is she doing here?" I say, a hitch in my voice revealing my depth of my distress.

"I've had her collected for us," my father replies calmly, in a way which infers I should be grateful.

"For what?" I say, trying to steady my breathing. "You said you didn't want her." Could he actually be considering my suggestion of keeping her as a weapon? A part of me knew it didn't seem possible, but my head felt heavy with the relief of seeing her alive and the anger at what my father had done to her.

"Well," my father says, "That's not entirely true. I could certainly benefit from having her around, but I decided at the last moment that I wasn't interested in her company anymore." He shakes his head. _Fury._ My mind is racing as I try to decipher his words. I keep my eyes trained solely on Juliette. What is she waiting for? My eyes bore into her, begging her to kill him now. But she is watching my father with more curiosity than fear. "It's just so frustrating to be crippled like this," he says, his laugh cutting into me as painfully as a lash from his whip. "It's just so unbelievably frustrating. But at least I've found a fast and easy way to fix it. To put it all back to normal, as they say. It'll be just like magic."

"What do you mean?" Juliette's first words since my arrival are full of pain. _'"Adam,"'_ I hear echoed again in my mind.

"I'm surprised you even have to ask, my dear. I mean, honestly, did you really think I wouldn't notice my son's brand-new shoulder?" My lips twitch in anger at hearing him refer to me as his son. He is no father. He could care less about me or my wellbeing, and he had left me gasping in pain the last time he touched the shoulder he is so casually discussing. The shoulder which Juliette put a bullet through. Blinding pain sears my chest. I wish she had merely shot me again yesterday, it would have been far less agonizing than what she had done. "Did you think I wouldn't find it strange to see him come home not only unharmed, but entirely healed? No scars, no tenderness, no weakness—as if he'd never been shot at all! It's a miracle," he pauses, staring straight into Juliette's eyes as if delivering a death blow. "A miracle, my son informs me, that was performed by two of your little freaks."

"No." _Fear, terror, guilt, anger._ Juliette's emotions blindside me, almost causing me to rock back from the blow.

"Oh yes." Out of the corner of my eye, I see my father defer to me conspiratorially, "Isn't that right, son?"

 _Betrayal._ My chest aches at how quickly she assumes I was involved. "No," Juliette mutters to herself before directing her anger towards my father, "Oh, God, what have you done? WHERE ARE THEY?"

"Calm yourself," My father says, the wicked grin still plastered on his face as he tells Juliette he has collected the healer girls. Juliette's emotions are out of control, dwindling close to despair, when she could just as easily transform this anger into action. My mind whirls as I consider how to move closer to her. My body is screaming to throw myself between her and my father. If I could touch her, I could use her power to end this once and for all.

"Did you know about this?" Juliette addresses me for the first time and I freeze. She might as well be holding my heart in her hand and slowly crushing it, I can feel the squeeze of her anger and hatred towards me. "Did you do this? Did you know?"

"No, Juliette. I swear, this wasn't my idea," I say urgently, knowing it is too late to try to hide from my father how much I care for her.

"You are both getting agitated over nothing," My father says. And although his words are calm, there is anticipation and a simmering rage in him which sets my nerves on fire. "We have more important things to focus on right now. More pressing issues to deal with."

Time slows. The derision in his voice hints there is worse to come for me. _"Unfinished business." "I have something quite appropriate planned."_ My father's words ring in my head. I had been so shocked at Juliette's presence, I had forgotten the original terror I felt when I burst through my mother's door. My punishment.

I can't breathe. "What are you talking about?"

"Justice, son." My father doesn't face me, keeping his full attention on Juliette. Her green-blue eyes are full of terror when they meet mine, and I will her to take action. She looks away and makes no motion towards my father. I slowly reach for my gun as discreetly as possible as my father continues. "I'm talking about justice. I like the idea of setting things right. Of putting order back into the world. And I was waiting for you to arrive so I could show you exactly what I mean. This is what I should've done the first time." My father's rage is set to explode when he looks at me and I freeze, my hand touching the hilt of my gun. "Are you listening? Pay close attention now. Are you watching?"

A shot rings out.

I drop to my knees. Agony is coursing through me and I clutch my chest, thinking for a moment I have been shot.

That would have been less painful.

Juliette is on the ground, a red stain blossoming on my childhood shirt. "No," I say disbelieving, half-rising and stumbling towards her. She is choking, blood dribbling from her mouth. Blood. Too much blood. I force myself to look down at the gaping hole in her chest, and I can't believe she isn't already dead. "No, no, no," I mutter. I press my hands to her chest and they are instantly dripping with blood. Her eyes are open but not focused. I lean forward, directly in front of her.

"Look at me, love."

It is too late.

I can't save her.

She's going to die.

"Please, Juliette," I beg, my voice cracking with the weight of my despair. "Stay with me. Please." Her eyes droop shut and my blood turns ice. She's gone. I'm alone, a monster of my father's making. She can't be dead.

A wheezing breath shatters the silence and I exhale a sigh of relief. I focus, and I feel her energy growing dimmer each passing moment.

My father laughs behind me.

"Get out," I whisper hoarsely.

"Pathetic," he sneers.

I turn on him, my hands still wet with Juliette's blood. My reservations are gone. This time, I'm ready to kill him. But we are no longer alone. Half a dozen guards fill my mother's living room. I lunge at him, but two soldiers grab my arms and pull me back. My father is grinning as he limps laboriously towards me and squeezes my jaw.

"Yes, anger. That is what should fuel you." I yank my head from his grasp and he gathers his coat in his arms. "By the time you return to base, I expect this lesson will have sunk in. Love," he says the word distastefully, "is a weakness. You cannot give in to your weaknesses, they will destroy you." His face is again close to mine, and I resist the urge to spit in it.

"Get out," I say again from behind clenched teeth.

He laughs again and I think I might be sick. "Clean this mess up," he orders me, motioning behind me, to where Juliette lay. With his nod of approval, the soldiers release me and I drop next to Juliette. Still breathing. "I will send a tank to retrieve you and my two prisoners in a few hours. I get the feeling I don't want to be in an enclosed space with you until you've come to your senses," he chuckles and walks out the door.

"Juliette," I say, bunching the remains of her shirt against her wound. "Love, please." My head droops and I fight back a sob. I remember how yesterday I had tried to hate her and wish I could take it all back. I wish I could take back my angry words and the pain I caused her to see one more smile on her lips. I don't care if she wants to be with Adam, or if I never see her again. All I want is for her to be alive somewhere. Her pain is too much to bear.

Her breaths are coming slower now and I know this is near the end. I push harder against her wound, not wanting another ounce of her precious blood to spill. I imagine the wound sewing itself shut, the blood flowing back into her body, not even a scar left, like my shoulder…

My shoulder.

I leap up. My father said he would retrieve me and his prisoners in a few hours.

The girls are here.

I race into the kitchen and find two girls, their eyes wide and their mouths gagged. I pull out a knife and they shy away before I break the ropes binding their wrists.

"Come on," I say, already heading to the door.

"We aren't going anywhere with you!" One of them cries, reaching for the other.

"Please!" I can hear the desperation in my tone as I edge closer to the door, not wanting to spend another second with Juliette out of my sight. "Juliette has been shot, you have to save her."

The twins share a look and take a tentative step towards me. I am out the door and kneeling in front of Juliette in an instant. "Just take my arms. I can fix this." I'm rambling, the words tumbling from me as I break apart in front of Juliette. " We can fix her, I know it. Help me."

"We- we can't," one of the girls says.

"You have to!" I shout, as I stand up and face the girls, who are trembling as they hold on to each other. Pain blossoms on my scalp as I pull manically on my hair, trying to take control of myself.

 _Fear._ "But we can't—we can't touch her," a crying voice says. "There's no way for us to help her—"

"I can't believe she's actually dying," the other girl interrupts "I didn't think you were telling the truth—"

"She's not dying!" I say fiercely, my heart clenching at the thought. This is my fault. I should have shot my father when I walked in the door, how had I failed her again? I can't let her die. "She is not going to die! Please, listen, I'm telling you," I beg, my pride long gone, "you can help her. I've been trying to explain to you, all you have to do is touch me and I can take your power. I can be the transfer, I can control it and redirect your Energy—"

"That's not possible," one of them says. Her mistrust of me is rolling off her. "That's not—Castle never said you could do that—he would've told us if you could do that."

"Jesus, please, just listen to me," my voice is husky from holding back tears. Is this how it ends? Do I lose Juliette completely due to all of the things I've done? Because I was such a terrible person I can't get two girls to trust me? I will never forgive myself. "I'm not trying to trick you—"

"You kidnapped us!" they shout in unison.

"That wasn't me! I wasn't the one who kidnapped you—" I brace myself with one hand against the wall, the other clenching my forehead. This is out of control. I didn't even consider that they might not be willing to help Juliette just because I was the one asking.

"How are we supposed to trust you?" one of the healers accuses me. "How do we know you didn't do this to her yourself?"

I did. I did do this to her. I should have protected her. If Kent was asking them to save her, they would have done so already. She is going to die because of every selfish thing I had ever done. "Why don't you care?" My breath is coming in loud rasps. "How can you not care? Why don't you care that she's bleeding to death? I thought you were her friends—"

"Of course we care! But how can we help her now? Where can we take her? Who can we take her to? No one can touch her and she's lost so much blood already. Just look at her."

My breath catches in my throat as I turn to look at Juliette. She is so still, her energy barely flickering now.

"Juliette?" I run towards her, my legs cut out from under me as I drop beside her. Her eyelids are fluttering. My hands hold her face and I beg her to stay with me. Beneath her pain, I can sense her acceptance. She's giving up. "Juliette?" My voice cracks as I form her name. I shout, "JULIETTE—"

I can't take it anymore. Failure is not an option. I finally take control of myself, and with speed and grace I didn't know I possessed, I leap over and straddle her gently. Her blood is everywhere and I push up her sleeves to I can touch her without hurting her further. I whisper, "You are going to be okay. We're going to fix this. They're going to help me fix this and you—you're going to be fine." I'm blathering wildly now, on the verge of hyperventilating. "You're going to be perfect. Do you hear me? Juliette, can you hear me?"

She looks up at me, her green-blue eyes suddenly focused on mine and I take a deep breath. _I love you. And even if I never have a hope of you feeling the same, I need you to live. You are all the good in me. I need you, Juliette._

"Each one of you, grab my arms," I order in my best commander voice. I'm holding on to her, as if my grip can keep her from leaving this world. "Now! Please! I'm begging you—"

And for some reason they listen.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! I plan to pick up in Ignite Me at the nightmare scene!**


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